


Biological Imperative

by AriameSalim



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Turtlecest, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriameSalim/pseuds/AriameSalim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some legends, they call her the Preservationist.  Her job is to choose whether or not to save a species when it is on the brink of extinction.  When she comes upon the peculiar case of four mutated turtles that were not in her Plan, a decision has to be made.  Luckily two of them are in love.  What?  So WHAT if they're both male? RaphxMikey, tcest, mpreg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Un-Planned

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any of its characters. This is being written purely for fun with no profit being made whatsoever.
> 
> Author’s Note: So this is a long awaited RaphxMikey story that I have been planning for a while now. It will contain turtlecest and mpreg, meaning a not so plutonic relationship between two brothers that will result in one of them being pregnant. If that is not your thing, please feel free to hit the back button and find something more to your liking. :)

It was always a sad thing to see the end of a bloodline.  Over the long centuries, she had seen this too many times to count.  It seemed like a waste to let entire families die out, to let their names fade away like dust in the wind.  The lucky ones, the ones that had somehow made an impact on their environment (be it good or bad), were remembered at least.  A countless number of others were not so lucky.

She remembered all of them.  Not that any single one was more significant to her than any other.  She knew their names, and if asked politely enough, she could even tell you their stories—for both the sentient and non-sentient lives.  That was both the blessing and curse of being the Preservationist, of being one of her Father’s custodians over the life in the universe that they were charged in keeping.  She got to watch her little beings as they lived their lives, but in the end whether a bloodline continued on or perished was ultimately up to the Plan.  She could only intervene and save (or not save) a species as long as it did not interfere with the overall goal of the Plan.

The Plan was very specific and yet in a constant state of flux.  It dictated who lived and who died on no uncertain terms.   _When_ and _where_ could never be predicted, though, not even by Father.  Death, after all, answered to no master, but the Plan was not so inflexible that it could not accommodate his whims.  Not that he was really a problem; the Plan practically made Death’s schedule, and he was more than happy to oblige.

 _He gets to have all the fun.  Just because he’s older._  She pouted as she thought of her _perfect_ brother and how their Father so often lauded his good work.  Death didn’t take his duties lightly, though.  He, better than anyone else, knew the utmost importance of his work and the weight that it held, of the far-reaching consequences of each decision that he made.  So the Plan was strictly adhered to—unless, on the extremely rare occasion, he had an important reason for putting any one being’s demise off until later.

“Oi.  This place again.  It’s been far too long, ne Juno?” she sighed as she took in the little blue globe that its inhabitants called Earth.  She absently stroked the top of Juno’s head; he purred and wrapped his scaly tail around her wrist in kind.  His whiskers twitched in time with his head antennas, and his large golden eyes looked a pale green shade in the light emitted by Earth’s image as it calmly spun in front of them.

“I was hoping my little Earthlings would have scaled it down some with all the breeding since the last time we looked in on them.  They’re certainly making brother look bad.  How do he and his acolytes keep up?  Whoa, whaaaat?  Over _seven billion_ in humans alone?!” She scowled and flicked her wrist to direct the rest of the information to feed onto the scroll floating in front of her.  The more she saw, the more her mood darkened.

Entire species had disappeared in the time she’d been away monitoring other parts of the universe (the galactic war on the other side of the universe had been a treat not to be missed!).  She double-checked the Plan and saw more than one species that had somehow been added to the Extinction list.  Their entries had obviously been last minute judging by the hasty handwriting that she’d come to associate with one of Death’s overworked (and massively underpaid) acolytes.

Oh this simply would not do!  Some of her favorite feline species had made their way onto it!  And two distinct species of whales that she’d had to bring back (twice!).  And—what?   _Why and when had her precious passenger pigeons been eaten into extinction?!_ What in the world had these abominable humans been _doing_ to the other species of their planet?!

“Too busy fucking and overpopulating my planet to take care of it.  Little selfish, scum-sucking _idiots_.  Well, what’s another Dark Age or two?  Maybe I should ask daddy for another restart,” She snarled and slammed a fist down on the desk in her frustration.  Juno skittered away with a startled mew as the room trembled with his mistress’ rage.

Infuriatingly, tears pricked her eyes.  She’d _loved_ those little pigeons, but it wasn’t even that.  It was the principle of the matter.  Could she ever step away from this miserable little ball of water without its reigning population wiping each other and everything around it out?  The last time she’d taken a break had resulted in a near do-over of _everything_ due to some stupid illness that the humans had let run rampant.  Her Father had not been pleased when he’d reviewed how far behind the humans had fallen in terms of development, but it could not be helped.  There was meddling and _meddling_ , and even for _them_ there were rules that had to be abided by.

“Arrrgg.  How dumb.  What a waste,” she huffed after a good cry.  She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes and rubbed until the tears were gone.  It made her feel better.  Calmer.  A good, long cry always did that.  Death often made fun of her for needing such an outlet, but hey!  At least she wasn’t taking out her tantrums on their little charges anymore, right?  (There was a solar system that was _still_ trying to recover when their sun went super nova for, ahem _, no particular reason_ ).

She took in a deep breath and released it in one long, cleansing exhale.  By then Juno had come skulking back to her.  She apologized with a few treats and by scratching in that sweet spot that turned him to a pile of purring goo.  Then she fixed her eyes back on her list and began to assess what damage control she would have to do.  It made her groan to think about the _groveling_ that she would have to do to her sister in order to restore some of these lost species.  She’d had to sit through an _hours_ long lecture the last time she’d had to go ask her sister to undo one of her mistakes and was not relishing a repeat experience.

 _Ohhh, just get to it._  She told herself and began scrolling until she could find the year that correlated with the last time she’d had her eyes set on Earth.  To her dismay, _a lot_ had happened while she had been away.

There were a few species that were beyond saving, whose time had run their course.  She checked the Plan and signed where she was supposed to.  In doing so, she transferred the rights of the species to her Sanctuary.  It was there that the Plan allowed a reanimated representation of the lost species to remain under her care.  She was able to enjoy what was lost to Earth (and the many other planets throughout) for the rest of eternity.

 _See you soon, my little darlings_.  She thought as she signed beside the entry that belonged to the passenger pigeon.

Despite her earlier tantrum, this small decision cheered her.  A little.  She hummed to herself as she went down the list, separating what to restore and what to retire forever.  When she felt satisfied that she’d chosen wisely, she turned her attention to the scroll that recorded every single event that had transpired over the past few centuries of Earth’s history.  It couldn’t get hurt to get caught up on what she had missed.  And boy was _a lot_ an understatement.

 _Look away for a second and they go through_ two _major wars?  How was that not enough to wipe out at least enough to give some other species some breathing room?  It’s not like…huh?  What’s this?_  She was quite unprepared when she came upon a mysterious entry that was flagged for her attention.  She blinked.   _A low numbers alert on a new turtle species?  O-only FOUR left?!_

She frantically re-opened the Plan and scrolled back to the end.  How had she missed this?  Any number below twenty was considered critically low and automatically put at the top of her list for review.  And a species that had only appeared in the past few decades or so?  How could it be endangered already?  Perhaps she could still save this one!  Four was low, but she could work with it!  Maybe.  Hopefully.   _Let’s see.  Turtles…turtles…turtles…_

But she didn’t find anything, at least not anything that matched the species of turtles that her personal scrolls had logged.  Turtles were interesting and hardy creatures, ones who seemed to appear on every endangered list that her little human idiots had put together (and yet couldn’t do a damn thing about in their unfailing state of incompetence) over the years.  Her Sanctuary housed some variations that she’d let die out, and they held a special place in her heart.

 _How come I don’t see them in the Plan?  How does something NOT exist in the Plan?_  She checked again and again, even going further back than she might normally have.  No matter how long she looked, she couldn’t seem to find the beginning of this mysterious turtle species’ story.  A look at her logs showed the same strange lack of information.

Puzzled and more than a little stunned, she sat back and stared at her personal logs as they floated calmly in front of her.  On a whim she began to look through them more carefully and noted a curious series of events that seemed to pop up whenever any mention of this mysterious group of turtles appeared. She certainly couldn’t remember any mention of humanoid red-eared slider turtles, well, EVER in her logs—even dating back to when Earth first formed!

“Juno, I think there has been interference from another dimension again.  Ugghhh, like that last time,” she groaned and slapped her hand to her face.  That had been a _disaster_ to clean up.  But it made sense to her the more she thought about it.  Only interference from another dimension could cause these enigmatic entries to appear in her daily observation logs but not in the Plan.  The Plan could not dictate a path for what it did not know existed.

One thing was for sure, it would take some investigating.  It had been a long time since anything about Earth really and truly piqued her interest.  The stupidity of humans was just too much to bear sometimes so her attention often drifted to other parts of the universe.  But this?  This was interesting.

“Hold the fort, ne Juno?  And, uh, don’t tell daddy if he calls.  I want to get to the bottom of this before he even finds out,” She scratched him behind the ears and then turned her gaze to the Earth.  Where to start?

Well, first things first, she wanted to observe.  It had been a long time since she had set foot on Earth, and judging from what she had just read much had changed.   _Ah, well.  Nevermind that.  Got a job to do.  Talking mutated turtles.  Great googily moogily.  I looked away for ONE century!  ONE!_


	2. Raph and Mikey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph and Mikey are happy and in love. :)

Raph’s entire body twitched as he drifted towards consciousness.  He squirmed languidly, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt familiar hands press down on his thighs.  The mouth that was the source of the warmth pooling somewhere below his belly curved into a smile around the most sensitive part of Raph’s body.  Mikey released him with a dirty, wet-sounding _pop_.  He rested his head against Raph’s thigh, nuzzling the muscular leg with his cheek as he peered up at Raph through half-lidded blue eyes.

“Good morning,” Mikey murmured, a mischievous grin already tugging at his lips.  Without breaking eye contact, he turned his head and sucked on the sensitive skin on Raph’s inner thighs.  Even half awake, every nerve in Raph’s body was ignited by his mate’s teasing.  And the little deviant knew _exactly_ what he was doing; he lavished attention on every bit of Raph’s lower body except for the one thing that was begging for it.

“Mmm...hungry?  What do you feel like?  Eggs?  French toast?” Mikey asked as innocently as possible, tilting his head back so that he could smirk at Raph.  The older turtle was flushed and panting by now.  His green eyes were narrow and filled with a hunger of a very different kind.  When Mikey began to push himself up from the bed, gleefully babbling something about getting coffee ready, Raph lunged.

He grabbed Mikey by the shoulders, planted one bent knee into the mattress, and easily flipped them around so that he had the younger turtle pinned beneath him.  Mikey let out a noise that was half yelp, half giggle.  He didn’t fight the strong hands that held him down or the green eyes that blazed into his.  Instead, he lay there unresisting, but the smile that he gave his mate was _anything_ but submissive.

“Ooooh, big strong Raphie.  What’s the matter, baby?  You’re all growly and such…” Mikey needled.  He’d begun to run his hands up the back of Raph’s legs, his fingertips just barely brushing the green flesh.  He found Raph’s tail and was rewarded with a low groan as he ran his finger up and down the sensitive length.

“I’ll show you _growly and such_ ,” Raph replied and stopped any cheeky retort that Mikey might have had by pressing their lips together.  He kissed Mikey until his younger mate was left breathless.  When they broke for air, Mikey dazedly peered up at him, all the teasing replaced by desire.  Raph pressed his advantage by hooking an arm under one of Mikey’s knees and hiked it over his shoulder, exposing what belonged to him and him alone.

Mikey let out a low churr as Raph traced the slit in his brother’s lower plastron with his free hand.  The younger turtle’s light green tail twitched and then unfurled.  Mikey, ever the playful little shit, began to slowly move it back and forth, brushing Raph’s wrist in an enticing way, curling around a digit as Raph moved his hand past it.  His blue eyes were dark with need, and Raph chuckled at the way the younger turtle eagerly canted his hips upward to increase their contact.  He pulled his hand away, causing Mikey to emit a strangled mewl in protest.

“Not a nice feeling to be teased, is it, little brother?” Raph asked in a voice that had dipped to a low growl.  However, he couldn’t resist the soft, desperate keening noises that Mikey had begun to make.  He melded their bodies together again and seized Mikey in another kiss, this one sloppy and open-mouthed, but soon, any semblance of control was quickly thrown out of the window for both of them.

Later, they lay stretched out together and basked in each other’s presence.  Mikey rested his head against Raphs’ shoulder and traced the lightning bolt-shaped crack in his plastron with one finger.  Raph had an arm slung around him, a large, strong hand splayed along his carapace.  Mikey’s voice was a low, muffled murmur.  “We missed breakfast.  I bet Leo’s gonna’ come pounding on the door any second.”

Raph rolled his eyes.  “Fearless can take his training and shove it.  We’re taking a day off.”

“And I bet you’ll be the one to tell him that,” Mikey scoffed but with the fondest smile.

Raph was too content by their energetic bout of morning sex to _really_ be bothered by their older brother’s strictness.  He made a face.  “Ugh.  Way to ruin the mood, Mikey.  It was going so well and you start talking about _Leo_ of all people. _Leo_ while we are in _bed_.”

Getting under Raph’s skin was a specialty of Mikey’s, a skill he excelled at.  He always had, even when they had been children.  Now, while they were well into their twenties and _more_ than just brothers, it was no different.  But another thing Mikey also excelled at was being able to read Raph and knowing just how to calm him down or to lift his mood.  So Mikey smiled, knowing that Raph was just being his usual stubborn self; this was definitely him in a _good_ mood.

He lifted his head up and cocked it at his older brother.  “I’m sorrry, Raphie…” He dropped his eyes in an attempt to look contrite.  He walked two of his fingers up Raph’s plaston, unable to keep the smile from tugging at his lips.  “Is there some way I can make it up to you?”

“Well,” Raph said, and Mikey’s grin widened.  “There is ONE way…”

As predicted, Leo came searching for them not too long after.  He was ignored at first.  Undeterred, he pounded on the door and griped, but experience had taught him not to barge in (personally, both Raph and Mikey thought that he was due for an eyeful because of how hilarious it had been _last_ time).  When he didn’t immediately give up, Mikey flashed a mischievous grin at Raph.  It didn’t take Raph even a second to figure out what Mikey was up to.

“Ohhhh, Raph!  Raaaaaph!” Mikey called out loudly, faking a churr that had Raph in hysterics.  Mikey stifled a giggle and clamped a hand over Raph’s mouth, his eyes already beginning to water in amusement as they heard the knocking falter.  Mikey turned it up a notch.  “Ohhh, right THERE, big guy!  Right _there_!  Yes.  Love you so much, Raphie.  Take me AGAIN. Oh...oh...oh…”

Raph was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that his entire body was quaking, especially when they both could imagine the bewildered look on Leo’s face.  Their brother was honorable, disciplined, and someone that they would follow through hell and back.  But shell was he a _prude_ sometimes.  It did, however, make for some great moments.

They shook the bed, banging the headboard into the wall several times for added effect.  They bounced on the bed so that the mattress springs squeaked and shuddered.  At one point, Mikey’s hand slipped from Raph’s mouth, and his laughter escaped in a harsh bark.  Mikey, still grinning, swooped in to cut it off with his lips, but it was hard to kiss properly when he was giggling himself.

They let the charade go on until they sensed Leo’s tactical retreat (surrender).  For a long moment, they laid there and enjoyed a good laugh together.  Raph’s blood was hot and pulsing in his veins.  If they hadn’t already gone a few rounds, he might have rolled them back over again and done something about it.  But then Mikey’s stomach chose that moment to remind them that it was empty.

Raph raised an eyebrow.  Mikey at least had the decency to look sheepish.  “Breakfast?”

“Way to ruin the mood,” Raph grumbled for the second time but with a fondness he couldn’t hide.  Mikey gave him another sweet peck on the lips before he pushed himself off of him and got up.

They left their bedroom and headed directly for the bathroom.  On the way, they heard Leo complaining--probably to poor, long-suffering Donnie--about them in the kitchen.  Raph grinned, feeling a satisfying sense of victory.  It added a pep to his step that carried on even when he and Mikey emerged, freshly bathed, and joined their brothers in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Raph greeted, offering a cheeky grin to their oldest brother.

“Morning?  You might as well say _noon_ ,” Leo corrected, voice stern, his posture perfect.  He sat at the table trying to look very dignified with his little teacup (pinky _out_ ), as if he weren’t slightly pink in the face and pointedly forcing himself _not_ to avert his eyes from the two of them.

“Noon?   _Really?_  Whoa.  Sorry, Leo.  We, uh, got a little carried away,” Mikey replied with genuine feeling.  He wasted no time in heading towards the fridge.  First, as always, he threw open the freezer door and greeted his beloved pet, Ice Cream Kitty.  She meowed and purred in delight at the sight of him.

“You didn’t miss much,” Donnie spoke up, not even glancing up from the laptop he was typing on.  Then he paused and gave them a sardonic smile.  “But you’d better convince Master Splinter to go easy.”

Raph tried to hide his nervous gulp by draining a gulp of juice right from the carton.  As casually as possible, he asked, “Was he mad?”

“No,” Leo replied but then added cryptically.  “But he wasn’t happy either.  You two really need to control yourselves better.  Missing training _again_?  This isn’t acceptable.  You--”

“Oh save the lecture, Fearless.  We’ll hear it from Splinter soon enough,” Raph interrupted.  His eyeballs almost disappeared into his skull from how hard he rolled them.  He dealt with the fluttering nerves in his stomach the way he always did: by wrapping himself in an armor of irritation and annoyance.  

His eyes drifted to Mikey, who was spreading out the ingredients for his “world famous” Epic Sandwiches.  Unsurprisingly, he threw Raph a sly glance when he felt his eyes on him and shrugged.  But Raph could see past the calm exterior.  He knew his little brother almost better than he knew himself; he could see the minute changes as the anxiety and dread built up in his young lover at the thought of facing Splinter and _being in trouble_.  Some things never changed—even now when they were adults.

“So!  What’s Mikey making for your last meal?” Donnie cheerfully piped up and then squawked in protest when Raph flicked the cap to the orange juice directly at his forehead.  Leo sighed and muttered something about ‘twenty something and still a child’ while Mikey ducked his head to hide a grin.  Raph smiled to himself, feeling accomplished.


	3. Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While getting reacquainted with Earth, the Preservationist stumbles across a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind words of support and questions via PM. Your questions will be answered in the coming chapters, I promise. :)

She didn’t go directly to her mystery turtles.  As her brother Vito always said: a good reconnaissance mission was best carried out in stages.  And being that he was the utmost expert in war, conflict, and destruction, she trusted his advice.  The first stage in Vito’s model for a successful mission was to familiarize one’s self with the terrain.  For her mission, it meant reacquainting herself with Earth in all its... _glory_.  By  _glory_ , she meant that in the most sarcastic way possible, by the way.

 _This used to be such a beautiful planet.  There used to be so many trees and animals and sites you couldn’t find anywhere else in the universe.  Now it’s this rotting heap.  And it SMELLS.  Why, oh, why, Father, are these humans the chosen ones to keep this planet?!_   She thought with no little amount of bitterness.  Centuries had given her time to build a healthy dislike of Earth’s dominant species.  

They certainly hadn’t been  _her_  choice, but Father, with the Plan’s strong influence to back him, had been adamant about ensuring their survival.  She was still skeptical as how long that would even be possible.  The humans had proven to be petty and selfish, destroying all that they beheld in order to fulfill whatever stupid, trivial desires that struck them.  Oh sure, there were a number that  _tried_  to take care of their planet, but it was already too late for some of the most magnificent creatures in all of the universe.  It wouldn’t be long, she surmised, before the humans wiped themselves out.   _Not nearly soon enough_.  

Still, she had to admit that there were things that she  _did_  like about humans.  Their creativity was one such thing.  As she wandered down the streets of one of the more ‘developed’ cities in the world, she found the hustle and bustle around her charming in its own way.  After purchasing a newspaper (Vito often advised that getting caught up on local and world events was paramount to knowing your environment), she decided to get a coffee but then couldn’t decide which out of four coffee shops (why so many on the same street block??) to go into.  

After she finagled some overpriced (and complexly named) hot beverage from the chosen Starbucks, she indulged herself with some serious window shopping, enjoying the various fashion trends that seemed to fill every window for miles and miles.  The giant flashing billboards that hung in the grand city’s heart made her stop long enough to enjoy a long string of colorful ads promising what she knew far too many humans prayed for: beauty, wealth, and power.

The food was also delectable despite how round and tubby it had made an alarming number of the humans.  She’d stopped and purchased a hotdog from a man with an accent that was so hard to understand that she thought about ending his bloodline right then and there.  What if he spread this genetic travesty onto the next generation?  Humans were already stupid; why give them MORE reasons to be the failure of the universe?

 _Oooh.  Pretty.  I wonder if they have that in my size_. She thought as an outfit in a nearby window caught her attention, effectively distracting her.  A glimpse of her reflection revealed the human form that she’d adopted for this foray: a wiry, curveless girl of maybe twenty with long black hair, a pointy chin, and squinty eyes.  Perfectly boring and overlookable, but given the species in question, it wasn’t like she really had a lot to work with.

 _Seriously, why didn’t they at least develop tails or wings?  Or scales. At least those are useful!_  She gave another aggrieved sigh and stepped through the sliding glass doors of the nearest department store.  A nice hat would cheer her up.

Hours flew by.  Somehow.  In her defense, time flowed differently when one was overtaken by the Shopping Madness.  It’s true!  Really!

She left with a hat that perfectly framed the face she’d molded.  And it matched her new scarf  _perfectly_.  Not to mention the shoes that she’d bought on impulse.  And the matching purse?   _To die for_.  She looked  _stunning_  (not even being arrogant!), and for the first time in that day she found herself smiling.

 _Evening already?  Huh.  When’d that happen?_   She glanced from side to side, the pendants of her earrings jangling alongside her human face.  The stores were closing, and the streets were slowly emptying as night began to overtake day.  She couldn’t help but to think about the analogy she’d heard a human say once, something about vermin ‘scattering like roaches.’

As the time passed, she just continued to walk, her new heels clacking against the pavement.  Night seemed to make the city look dingier, more decrepit.  It was almost an astonishing transformation.  It was as if the light of day had kept some unknown danger at bay, a danger that came in the cloak of darkness.  But it was quieter at least.  There was still the sound of cars and an almost ever present sound of sirens blaring somewhere.  Otherwise, with less people around, she could almost call the city of New York  _peaceful_.

“Oh ho ho.  What’s this now?  You lost, little lady?” A voice leered from her left, and suddenly there were shady men emerging from an alley that she was passing by—skulking and leering like the stereotypes that they were.  It was all she could do not to roll her eyes.

 _Well then.  So much for peaceful.  And here it was such a nice day that I’d almost forgotten my disdain._   She came to a halt, wondering if she ought to at least  _pretend_  to be scared.  That was the proper thing to do, right?  Especially since it was obvious that the three men that had slunk out from the shadows to flank her fragile female form were  _proud_  of being the slimy meat sacks that they were.

“God  _damn,_  girl.  I  _know_  you got money.  How about you show us the goods, baby?  Don’t worry,” A tongue flicked out and ran its way across his thin lips.  When he smiled at her, she caught a flash of yellowing teeth. “I’ll be gentle.  I like Asians.”

This kind of idiocy did not come without some work. Probably _years_ of it, she guessed.. The polite thing to do before she wiped all three of them from existence would be to at least give them a few seconds of false security.  Maybe she could even flash some boob or cry or something.  Yes, she liked that idea.  Not even Death could accuse her of flagrantly misusing her powers if she at least  _tried_  to make the seconds before their agonizing deaths somewhat enjoyable for them.  She was, if nothing else, benevolent.

Turning on the Teary Eyes, she emitted a whimper (and mentally patted herself on the back for how realistic it sounded).  “No, uh, don’t come closer!  P-Please?  Please!”

A large, beefy hand reached out for her elbow.  He was so close that she could smell the rank odor on his breath.  He, she decided with vicious alacrity, would go first.  She did not even need to consult the Plan to know that this would be no loss to the human species at all.

“Don’t touch me, hu--er, meat sa--no, that’s not right either.  Er, HELP!”

The men were giving her strange looks but didn’t seem deterred from their intentions.  Just as she felt a hand on her waist and was about to turn the human inside out, a cry came from above them, followed by a strange swishing noise she would later learn were the sounds created by a weapon called  _nunchucks_  when being swung round and round.

“ _Booyakasha!!_ ”

 _Oh._  Thought the Preservationist as she watched the only four remaining beings of the mysterious turtles species jump to her aide.  The humans called out to one another in alarm.  But the turtles were already on them, moving with admirable agility and effectiveness.  Their movements, she observed, were graceful and precise, their intent clearly to immobilize, not to kill.

 _Well, this is convenient.  They came to_ me _.  Aww...look at them go!_ The fight, and she she used that term VERY loosely (Vito would have scoffed and called it an  _ass-whupping_ ), was over in only seconds.  By the time they’d collected the beaten humans into a pile and realized that she was still standing there, her curiosity had transformed into a sort of full blown wonder that she had not felt in ages as she got a better look at them.   _Oh!  I get it!  Those masks!  They’re color-coded!  How ADORABLY adorable!_    _Haha...I kind of like them already._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Mikey let out a triumphant hoot as he and his brothers easily pounded the thugs into unconsciousness.  It was the first thing that he and his brothers had encountered all night.  After the morning he and Raph had spent doing handstand push-ups at the behest of Master Splinter, he was eager to do  _anything_  right-side up!

Now that the fight was over, Mikey was disappointed to realize that this was  _it_. He stood beside Raph as they hovered over the largest of the three that they’d piled on the ground in one bruised and beaten heap.   _Duuude. Thugs aren’t made of what they used to be._

“Like a turtle  _do_ ,” Mikey crooned and slapped a high-three with Raph.  The battled had been short (TOO short), and the turtles hadn’t even broken a sweat.  It had been enough to get Mikey warmed up, though.  Shell, maybe if he could talk the others into it, they could go into Purple Dragon territory and  _really_  get into something.   _Those_  guys couldn’t help but to be up to no good. 

“Ma’am.  Uh...are you okay?”

Mikey glanced over his shoulder and found Leo sheathing his swords and hesitantly advancing on the woman that they had saved.  He shared in his brothers’ shock that she was still there.   _Why_  was she still there?  Most people fled at the first opportunity to get away from being attacked...and/or the sight of them.  Curious, he focused on her face, fully anticipating the wide-eyed look of shock and the scream that he was normally met with.

He found neither.  Instead, she was looking at the four of them with the oddest expression.  She looked amused,  _gleeful_  even if one looked carefully enough.  Maybe he was mistaken, but he had the impression that they were being  _studied_  more than gawked at.  Huh.

Mikey caught Raph’s eye, and the puzzlement must have been made plain on his face.  His mate, suspicious by nature, narrowed his eyes at her unusual reaction.  His fingers twitched on the sais he had yet to put away as he turned to fully face the woman.

It must have been something in Raph’s eyes that the woman saw that made her break out of the out-of-place happiness. She blinked a few times, still not quite looking  _scared_ , but she did look between the four of them in awe.  Mikey winced inwardly as it occurred to him what she was probably going through.   _Poor lady.  She probably thinks she’s lost it.  I bet she’s scared out of her mind._

“Hey, you don’t have to be scared.  We’re not going to hurt you, lady.  Are you okay?” he spoke up, drawing her attention to him.  As her eyes fell onto him, he felt the strangest sensation.  It started as a tingle in the back of his neck, the prickle of feeling that he felt whenever his instincts told him that something was not right, that what his eyes reported was not all that there was to see.  The feeling had never led him wrong in the past, even when all evidence proved contrary and even his own brothers didn’t believe him.

But before he could put a voice to the feeling, she actually spoke.  Her eyes were coal-dark, but Mikey saw something he couldn’t find the words for when he looked into them.  The only feeling he could equate to it was what it had felt like the first time he had seen a sky full of stars, endless and twinkling and ethereal for one who had spent his entire life dwelling underground.  He was mesmerized, and the strange tingling in the back of his neck ran down his spine like a chill.

“You saved me,” she stated and then smiled, tilting her head to the side, her eyes like crescent moons.  The light from the single lamp post behind them hit the teardrop-like jewels dangling from her ears and cast a murky, rainbow-like array along her cheeks. “Thank you.”

That was it?  No scream?  No demand to know what they were?  The feeling that  _something isn’t right here_  intensified, and yet Mikey found himself unable to speak, unable to move, the longer he looked into those strange eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Donnie asked.  From the speculating look on his face, it was clear that he was trying to analyze her reaction to determine why it was so calm.  So  _wrong_.  “You...most people don’t...you know,  _stick around_  when they see us.”

“Oh?  That’s a shame.  You really are quite remarkable to look at up close.  Elegant, even,” she answered with a shake of her head that made those shimmery earrings swish around her face.  Mikey couldn’t figure out why he was so distracted by them.  Beside him, he felt Raph shift his weight the way he did when he was unsettled.

Her words startled the turtles into an awkward silence.  Leo and Donnie exchanged an uneasy look, not sure how to reply.  Mikey shook himself out of the strange trance.  “Who are--”

The wailing of a police siren and the screech of tires cut him off like clockwork.  Seconds later a car whipped into the alley, and headlights flooded it along with the tell-tale flashing of red and blue lights of the NYPD.  The two police officers that hurried from their vehicle only found a lone woman standing over a body of three dazed and beaten men.

From the rooftop, Mikey watched as one of the officers uncertainly approached her and asked if she was alright.  His eyes didn’t waver from the slight form of the woman, who hadn’t so much as blinked when he and his brothers had hurriedly vaulted onto the nearest fire escape and clambered their way onto the rooftop of the nearest building.  He thought he saw her glance up towards them and smile, but they were too far up for him to be entirely sure.

To the officers, she put on a good show.  With a distressed wail, she collapsed into the arms of one of them and began babbling about being lost and attacked.  There was no sign of the eerily calm woman that Mikey and his brothers had just met.  It was such a vast difference that Mikey wondered for a second if he’d only imagined the strange feeling and if this was the woman’s fear finally breaking free.

 _No._  A voice inside him insisted.   _I didn’t imagine it.  Something’s definitely not right with that lady.  Not right at all!_

“We should go.  The police can take it from here,” Leo said when more police cruisers began to appear on scene.  Mikey lingered for a moment longer, still looking down at the peculiar woman.  He jumped when she lifted her head off of the shoulder of the officer and peered directly at him.  She smiled, and again those strange eyes held him spellbound for a second.

 _What the--!_ Mikey stumbled back so that their eye contact was broken.  His heart pounding, he tried to make sense of what had just happened but could not.  A shiver ran down his spine as turned and broke into a run to catch up to his brothers.   _Creepy!_


	4. Itsa Noyb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey wants to figure out who the mystery woman is. Meanwhile, Splinter wakes and reflects.

“I’m  _telling_  you, dudes.  There was something totally weird about that woman.  Like  _mondo_  weird,” Mikey insisted for  _at least_  the fifth time that night.  The conversation had been going on since they’d left the woman to the police and was continuing on well into the night.

Raph was listening to his lover, but that didn’t mean he was budging from his seat on the couch.  He and Donnie were in an  _epic_  competition to win their Mario Kart Championship tournament.  Raph had held the title of Champion among his brothers for months, and by shell was he going to defend it!  As he launched a spiky blue shell and drifted around a corner, he muttered. “Mondo?  Who uses the word  _mondo_  still?”

Without even the need to see it, he knew that his question had earned him a glare, but Mikey wasn’t to be distracted when he had his mind set on something.  “You’re missing the  _point_.  I’m serious!  Didn’t any of you think that was, like, a setup or something?”

“She  _was_  strange,” Leo admitted, a furrow forming between his eyes as he sat to the side examining one of his swords for signs of damage.  It was a ritual that all of them partook in with their own respective weapons, but Leo cared for his katanas with an almost religious reverence.  His blue eyes darted up from the blade to lock onto Mikey.  “How do you know she wasn’t just freaked out?  Everyone reacts differently to, you know,  _us_.”

Mikey shook his head.  “There’s freaked out and then there was  _that_.  She didn’t even look  _surprised_  by us, Leo.  She looked--she looked... _weird_!”

“You said that already, Mikey,” Raph couldn’t help but to remark, digging himself deeper into the hole, but unable to help himself.  He chanced a peek at Mikey and winced at the scowl that he was currently the recipient of.  Time to backpedal; it was too chilly of a night to sleep alone on the couch.  The split second distraction cost him, though.  He didn’t even have time to utter a shocked protest as Donnie guided Toad past his Bowser and to right through the checkered finish line.

“YES!  Success!  Bow to the Champion, Raphael!  _Bow_!” Donnie hollered, jumping to his feet, fists jabbing triumphantly into the air.  Raph glared as Donnie immediately began to rub his hard-won victory in Raph’s face.  The nerd even did a  _dance_.  Donnie got through maybe three chants of ‘Go turtle go turtle GO!’ before Raph stretched out a leg and tripped him.

“Ugh!” Mikey exclaimed, throwing his own hands up in disgust.  “ _You guys aren’t listening!_ ”

“We are, Mikey,” Raph attempted to sooth.  He was frowning, still annoyed by losing his title as reigning Champion to  _Donnie_ , of all people.  But watching the nerd stumble and bang a shin into the coffee table (and then jump around cursing) took some of the sting out.  So he fixed his full attention on the pouting face of his mate.  He studied Mikey for a second before stating, not asking.  “You’re having one of those  _feelings_  again.”

The younger turtle nodded, expression suddenly too grim.  “ _Big_  time, dude.”

“But what does that even mean, Mikey?” Donnie asked, one large green hand rubbing at his shin.

Raph saw a hint of uncertainty enter Mikey’s eyes as he looked between his three older brother.  “I don’t know...but I know something’s not right about her.  I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, let’s say you’re right and something is  _weird_  about her.  So what?  What do you expect for us to do?  It’s not like she was hurting anyone.  If anything, we saved  _her_ , remember?” Leo, ever the devil’s advocate, brought up in a perfectly logical and level tone. He’d sheathed his first katana and had the second one in his hands.

“We can  _at least_  look into it,” Mikey insisted.  “Aren’t  _you_  the one who said that we needed to be more alert to avoid another incident?  Well, I’m being alert, and I say we need to look into weird-smiley-lady!”

 _Incident?  Shell, which one?_   Raph thought and knew from the expressions on all of their faces that they were all thinking the same thing.  

They’d fought so many enemies over the years.  They’d clashed with an alien race known as the Kraang over and over again and had even managed to stop their invasion of Earth a few times.  How many fellow  _mutants_  had they faced (and even inadvertently help to bring to life) just from the mutagen brought into their world by the Kraang?  Then there was the Foot, an ever present threat even after the defeat of the Shredder.  There were so many other enemies still out there that they all knew it was inevitable to meet again.  Like Bishop.  Or worse, the Kraang if they ever figured out how to re-open the portal from Dimension X.

Raph shuddered, trying not to dwell on the disturbing memories associated with the Kraang.  Mikey’s were darting between them with that  _look_.  Experience had taught Raph to take extra precautions whenever he saw that spark of determination slowly kindling in Mikey’s eyes.  Even before they’d become lovers, Raph had learned how to better predict Mikey’s actions through  _seeing_  and truly  _listening_  when something brought that expression onto the younger turtle’s face.  It made him love him more...but drove him  _insane_  at the same time.

He looked over at Donnie. “Yo, Champion.  It’d be easy enough for you to figure out who she is, right?  Through the cops?  I mean they probably picked up those losers we thrashed so her information would be on their report, right?”

Donnie nodded, his expression thoughtful.  “Yeah, it would.  It’d be a piece of cake to hack the NYPD’s system.  It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

Mikey’s face lit up like sunshine.  “Really, D?  Oh!  Do you think you could get an address?”

“Mikey,” Leo immediately cut in.  “She already  _saw_  us.  We’re not going to risk confronting her and exposing ourselves  _again_.”

“I don’t want to confront her,” Mikey argued.  “I think we just need to  _know_  who she is!”

Leo sighed.  “Mikey--”

“What if she was sent here by the Kraang?”

Mikey’s question was valid and innocent enough, but it was the quiet, serious tone that seemed to suck the air out of the room.  Raph’s heart twisted as he saw the look on Mikey’s face, even when Mikey was pointedly  _not_  looking at him.  His eyes were fixed on Leo with an unnerving intensity, and any signs of uncertainty or joy had been drained from him, leaving behind memories and hints of a past hurt that Raph couldn’t sooth away no matter what he tried; he didn’t know if he would ever be able to.  Unconsciously, his fingers twitched, brushing against the top of the scar tissue that ran along his own side.  To him, it was just a leftover from a dark time, one he barely thought about, but for Mikey, it was so much more.

“Leo,” Raph spoke up after a beat, wanting to dispel the tense silence as the oldest and youngest regarded one another.  “It can’t hurt to know more.  Just in case.  If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.”

“I’ll be discrete, Leo,” Donnie added as well, his tone low and careful, trying to avoid adding fuel to a potential fire.  “Once we know who she is, we can just look in from a distance.  Or ask April and Casey to if we don’t want to risk her seeing us again.  We’ll be careful.”

The long moment when Leo and Mikey just stared at one another stretched on.  They were communicating on a level that Raph had only begun to scratch the surface of.  He could see the exact moment when Leo realized that if he didn’t agree that Mikey would probably just go out and look for the mystery woman anyway.  And how many times had that resulted in disaster?  

Luckily, Leo’s experience had taught him that a wise leader knew when to push and when to give ground.  Releasing a slow breath, Leo gave a smallest nod of assent.  “Fine.  But no one leaves the Lair to do  _anything_  until we know more.  Got it?   _No one._ ”

As if his words had broken a spell, Mikey became all smiles again.  Or at least he seemed to be; Raph could still detect the tinges of fear in those blue eyes that had never been able to hide much from anyone.  Mikey threw his arms around Leo.  “You’re the best, Leo!”

“Yeah yeah,” Leo muttered as he endured the squeeze.  

Mikey release him to chase after Donnie.  “Wait up, D!  I’ll help.”

Donnie gave him a dubious look.  “Uh...I think I can handle hacking a police database without your help, Mikey.”

“Well, I’ll just watch then,” Mikey answered too cheerfully, undeterred.  “I won’t get in the way.  Promise!”

Donnie began to open his mouth to argue, but Raph caught his eye and shook his head.  Donnie’s swallow and a hard blink was his acknowledgement, followed by a long-suffering sigh.  He made a face at Mikey.  “Fine.  But no touching things!  There’s an important experiment I’m helping April with.  If you mess with it, I’ll clobber you into Sunday!”

“D, that was like two days ago, bro.  You can’t clobber someone back in time.  That’s impossible.   _Duh_.  Wait, unless the experiment you and April are working on is a Time Machine.  Ooooh!  Is it?  IS IT?”

“Mikey, if you promise to shut up AND not touch anything, you can come, okay?”

Their bickering continued through the Lair, until they were outside of Donnie’s lab.  Raph followed them, keeping a careful distance until he saw Donnie disappear into the door.  Before Mikey could follow him in, Raph reached out and snagged him by the wrist.

“Raph! What--” Mikey fell silent as a shoulder muffled the rest of his words.  He didn’t put up much of a fight, not even when Raph folded his arms around him and held him in place.

“It’s not the Kraang,” Raph whispered into the side of Mikey’s head and felt a small tremor run through Mikey’s entire body.

After a second, he felt Mikey lean in closer to him, all pretense gone.  His voice sounded small and uncertain even muffled as it was against Raph’s shoulder.  “But what if it is?”

“It’s  _not_.  So stop worrying.  We beat them, remember?  They’re not coming and taking  _anyone_  away,” Raph said with as much conviction as he was able to.  He  _hated_  not knowing how to fix this.  What else could he do?  He couldn’t change the past.  His body still had the fading scars of their most harrowing run in with the Kraang, but the damage they’d done to Mikey continued to resurface years after things were long settled.

Mikey seemed to accept his words, but didn’t say anything for a while.  Raph tried to be patient.  There were still times when he couldn’t understand what went through the mind of his mate.  So he held on and let Mikey use him as an anchor.

“I just want to be sure,” Mikey finally murmured and gently pushed himself away.  The faint smile he gave Raph was genuine, though.  Some of the tension uncoiled in Raph’s chest at the sight of it.

“Sure.  Don’t spend too long with Egghead, okay?  Remember.  Tonight’s date night, and it’s my turn to pick the movie.  I got us a good one,” Raph leaned in and pressed a kiss to Mikey’s forehead.  “Don’t be late.”

The squeeze around his waist was his answer.  Raph let him go and returned to the living room, where he met Leo’s serious blue eyes.  Keeping his tone light, Raph asked.  “So, Fearless.  Want to race?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hamato Yoshi wasn’t sure what had woken him.  It hadn’t been a nightmare.  There was no choking sensation of fear, no sinking weight of dread.  He hadn’t jerked awake gasping for air or with the fur of his face wet with tears or clawing desperately for someone who was no longer alive.  No, it was not a nightmare like many other troubling nights, when no amount of meditation could quell the worries and memories that plagued his mind.  Still, something had disturbed his slumber.

He frowned and scanned the room with both his eyes and his other senses.  All was quiet and still in his room.  By the time his eyes had adjusted to better make out the shapes of his furniture and wall fixtures, he could confidently assume that there wasn’t anything amiss around him.  It would have been perfectly acceptable if he’d rolled back over and gone back to sleep.  Yet he could not, disquieted for some unknown reason.

The clock told him that it was late.  Yoshi crept out of his bedroom and through the dark, empty dojo where he spent much of his day meditating or teaching his sons the art of ninjutsu. He paused when he heard a faint murmuring and music through the door, a sound not unfamiliar to his sharp ears after raising four boys into manhood. Perhaps that was what had roused him.

The Lair was dark except for the glow coming from the television.  Yoshi cautiously scanned his surroundings with the same care as he’d done in his room as he stepped out of the dojo.  Still finding nothing out of the ordinary, he quietly made his way over to the couch and came to a stop.  He took in the two figures stretched out on the couch and was filled with a deep, warm tenderness.  And, quite unexpectedly, memories.

 _It was only yesterday, was it not?_   He thought wistfully as he saw the same figures in another time, as little toddlers drawn to one another for warmth and comfort on the cold New York nights. Michelangelo used to cry and squirm in his discomfort until Raphael would sleepily wake and wrap an arm around him.  He’d tucked Michelangelo firmly to his plastron until the youngest stopped whimpering.  Only when his little brother was quiet would Raphael go back to sleep himself, the thumb of his free hand firmly jammed into his mouth.

 _No matter how much things change, some things always stay the same._   The boys had fallen asleep watching an animated movie that was still playing.  Raphael was stretched out on his back, one arm bent and tucked behind his head.  His free arm was wrapped loosely around Michelangelo, whose face was half obscured in the angle in which he was tucked beneath Raphael’s chin.  

They were men now, but to Yoshi they would always be his beloved sons.  However, even with this tenderness, he could not help but feel the pang of disapproval that he always felt whenever he witnessed them together.  No longer were touches between them innocent and brotherly.  Every look and touch had taken on a whole different level of emotion, and Yoshi was still not entirely comfortable in allowing it to take place in his household.

The other part of Yoshi, the part that had known heartache like no other after the loss of his wife and child, argued on his sons’ behalf.  Despite how hard he’d worked to bring them up right and how much he tried to instill honor and morals into his children, there were times when he had to remember that though  _he_  may have started his life as a human--with all of the predilections and customs ingrained in him from the start--his sons had not.  They were not, and would never be, humans.  Was it fair to hold them to the same standards, then?

Yoshi sighed.  He didn’t have an answer, and no amount of meditation had led him any closer to finding one.  All he knew for sure was that they were his sons.   _And I will love them no less.  No matter what they may do._

He chose not to dwell on it any longer.  Instead, he glanced around to see if he could find a blanket.  When he found nothing, he drifted quietly towards the bedrooms. He briefly stopped beside his oldest’s door and tentatively reached out with his mind.  Leonardo’s mind was quiet and still in sleep so he moved on.

A light spilling out of Donatello’s lab caught his eye, and he decided to take a detour to see if his genius of a son was yet again too absorbed in another project to properly rest.  He quietly slipped inside and found his genius son awake and intently concentrating on something on the monitor of his computer.  His fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur of green.  There were several empty mugs of coffee scattered around his work station.

“Surely the scientific community can wait a few hours after sunrise for you to assist it?” Yoshi spoke up after a moment.  His eyebrows arched in amusement when Donatello jumped and whipped wide, startled brown eyes in his direction.

“Master Splinter!” Donatello gasped, clutching at his chest with one hand.  “How many times have I asked you not to  _do_ that?!”

“A ninja is always aware of his surroundings, Donatello,” Yoshi sagely stated and then offered an impish smile.  “And when he is not, it is sometimes amusing for others.”

Donatello gave a wry snort as he sat back.  “Well, I’m glad that I was successful in one thing tonight then.  Because I’ve hit a wall with  _this_  one.”

“What are you working on?”

“The thing is there really isn’t anything TO work on.  Mikey wanted me to hunt down some more information on a woman we saved tonight, but the NYPD’s report is...inconclusive.  She left a name but everything else she refused to leave because, and I quote,” Donatello raised his hands to emulate air quotes with his fingers, “she was ‘in fear of retaliation.’”

Yoshi stroked his chin.  “That does not sound uncommon.  There are many who wish only to live their lives and not get involved, especially victims.”

“The name she left for the police is Itsa Noyb,” Donatello went on, his tone flat.

“Can you not get any hits based on her name?  You have managed it in the past.  That is an unusual name.”

“Master Splinter… _Itsa. NOYB_.”

When Yoshi’s blank look registered, Donatello rose and went to the whiteboard he’d recently installed on the far wall.  He wrote out the name, spacing out the letters.  Then he underlined the first three letters of the first name.  After that, he wrote out some additional letters under the last name, using each of them as the first letter in their own new words.  Yoshi sighed when he read the mocking partial-acronym and suddenly understood Donatello’s frustration:  **ITS**   **N** ONE  **O** F  **Y** OUR  **B** USINESS.

“...I see.”

Donatello capped the marker with an aggravated huff.  Then he wandered over to the nearby table, where an assortment of petri dishes were laid out.  Their contents were different crystal formations, each glittering under various levels of lighting and casting murky rainbows across an upright board.  When Donatello saw Yoshi blinking at them, he elaborated that they were a part of an experiment for one of April’s college courses.  “They’re studying light prisms so April and I are trying to show how light refracts in different mineral densities.  It’s an easy extra credit assignment.  THIS I can do.  Hunting down creepy mystery women?  Not so much apparently.”

“My son, if there is information to be gleaned from even a false name and little else, I am sure you will think of how to attain it.  Perhaps a good night’s rest is all you need,” Yoshi assured him.

His son rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and gave him a sheepish smile, the gap in his top set of teeth still charming no matter what his age was.  “You know what?  You’re right.  I think I’ll call it a night and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow.  Thanks, Master Splinter.”

Yoshi bade him to sleep well before he scooped up one of the spare blankets from the cabinet where Donatello stored extra medical supplies.  He made his way back to the living room, again pausing, whiskers twitching at the subtle charge he felt in the air.  It was odd, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was that he was feeling.  Perhaps some meditation and reflection would heighten his senses and reveal the answer.

He spread the blanket over his sons and made sure that they were covered up to their shoulders.  Michelangelo immediately snagged a corner of the blanket and wrapped it around himself, snuggling closer into Raphael’s plastron.  Yoshi murmured a soft ‘goodnight’ to his slumbering sons, turned the television off, and then made his way back to his own room.

It was only seconds after he’d closed his door that the television clicked back on.  The volume was lower this time, but a female snort accompanied the softened clamor.  “It was just getting good.   _Rude._ ”


	5. The Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Preservationist observes the turtles and tries to attack the tricky problem of HOW she will save their species.

The more time she spent with the turtles, the more they intrigued her.  Even beyond the whole talking-mutated-ninja-turtles-raised-by-a-mutated-rat-in-the-sewers thing they were a fascinating bunch.  The first few days following their encounter in the alley found her observing their behaviors and how they lived their day-to-day lives.  Once they’d abandoned hope of finding  _Itsa Noyb_ , their lives resumed pretty normally. 

She wasn’t being  _creepy_  or anything!  Honestly!  She gave them  _plenty_  of privacy, thank you very much!  Okay, so if asked directly,  _maaaaybe_  she would have admitted that waltzing around in their home unseen while they lived their lives was a  _tad_  unsettling.  But it was all FOR SCIENCE!  No, really.   _Science!_

Their home, she learned, was called the Lair (or more formally, the “Lair 2.0”).  The complex itself used to be an underground subway station, a relic abandoned by the humans who had built it in a past era.  What might have once been an eerie, forgotten tomb full of rusting metal train cars and dusty offices had been transformed into a surprisingly cozy home for the four turtles and their adoptive father.  

The main portion of what must have been used for administrative purposes by the humans had been converted into the main living area and split off into a wing containing the turtles’ bedrooms and a large bathroom.  A former break room had become a kitchen/dining room with the addition of a repaired stove, refrigerator, and a large table with mismatched chairs.  There was even a large room, maybe a former supply room, fitted with mats and Shoji screen wall panels that served as a training dojo.  Attached to it was a single door that led into the tiny, orderly bedroom belonging to the family’s patriarch: the majestic mutated rat affectionately regarded as Splinter by the turtles.

It was an impressive transformation of an old facility.  It was even equipped with running water and electricity, two feats she didn’t think much of until it occurred to her that the turtles and their adoptive father would have had to somehow  _make_  it so.  Her exploration found three generators scattered throughout the Lair (two of which appeared to have been put together from spare parts...and from  _scratch_ ) and the large water treatment machines that piped in clean, fresh water for bathing and consumption.  There was even an air filtration unit.  The turtles and their father had not only created a home from what the humans had probably thought was beneath them to re-purpose, but they’d done it  _well_.

It didn’t take her long to realize that the creature comforts were mostly thanks to Donnie, the purple-clad turtle that appeared to be somewhere between the oldest and youngest in the age range of the four brothers.  She took to him first, charmed by his quick mind and pleasant demeanor.  He was neurotic, though, and seemed prone to have obsessive tendencies and bouts of moodiness.  Most of his time was spent in his lab, where various experiments were underway in different stages.

_A perfect specimen for breeding, especially with this sort of intellect_.  She thought as she idly flipped through an old textbook on medical procedures that she’d found on one of his many bookshelves.  Donnie had clearly spent many hours poring over it; there were so many of the worn pages dog-eared and notes scrawled in the page margins that she could clearly imagine him burning the late night oil many a night to absorb the book’s information.  She sighed.   _But alas.  Perfection does not exist anywhere in the universe but in Father.  Donnie HAD to have a flaw somewhere, now didn’t he?_

The more objective part of her could hardly blame him for being in love with a human (ugh, it still made her cringe just  _thinking_  about it).  After all, there was a glaring lack of female mutated turtles for him to choose from--or even any other sort of females in general that were even remotely close to his unique species.  And if it  _had_  to be a human, at least he’d latched on to someone who was only  _half_ -human.  It was almost tragic that Donnie’s feelings were unrequited.

If it had not been for the photographs that she’d found throughout the Lair (most of them being in Donnie’s lab for  _some_  reason), April O’Neil would have been in some very real danger the moment she  entered the Lair on what seemed to be her regularly scheduled visit.  These turtles were precious and critically endangered; she wasn’t going to let  _any_  human wipe them out now that she’d pretty much committed herself to saving their kind.  But luckily for April, the turtles’ warm greeting at her appearance had literally saved her life.

As she had watched the redhead interact with them, she pondered over the strange realization that there was much more to the young woman than what met the eye.  It was an interesting case to investigate at another time.   _A small blessing then that his feelings are not returned.  I won’t have to get involved and stop anything.  Interspecies mating with a half-human is SO last century.  Her species CERTAINLY isn’t hurting for numbers._

She placed the book back in its place and went to see what the rest of the family was up to.  Unsurprisingly, some sort of Ultimate Game Tournament seemed to be underway in the main living area.  April had disappeared into the dojo with Splinter shortly after her arrival, so the brothers had been left to their own devices.  Naturally, free time translated to Game Time.

_Remember, kids.  These are adults.  Tried and true and totally legal adults.  At least age-wise in the world they’ve grown up in._   She thought ruefully, unable to keep the smile from her face as she sat on the arm of the couch to watch the two players mash buttons and scream at the TV screen and at each other.  Her eyes drifted to the two occupants of the couch, settling first on the team’s leader, Leo.

He was the oldest, and it definitely showed in his demeanor.  If Splinter had been looking for the perfect model to go along with the plaque bearing the Japanese symbols for responsibility, family, and honor, he’d definitely found it in his oldest son.  She had a feeling that Leo had taken these creeds and their inherent duties to heart early in his life.  Not that it was a bad thing.  The universe in general, not just Earth for once, could use more people who cared about such things with the passion that Leo did.

His routine was the most predictable to follow.  Rising well before his brothers, he was usually the first to stumble into the family’s little kitchen.  It was the only time that she had been able to see him without the facade of perfect calm.  Instead, he’d come in stifling a yawn with one hand while the other rubbed at one half-lidded eye.  On the first morning that she’d spent in the Lair, she’d observed his morning routine from a seat at their kitchen table.

Leo had immediately set a kettle to boil and began preparing tea, completely bypassing the coffee maker that Donnie practically sustained his entire life with.  She could sense that even half-awake, Leo instinctively scanned every bit of his surroundings.  She could sense the power of a surprisingly well-ordered mind, one that was in tune with the  _other_  sense most sentient beings could never grasp due to the distractions of everyday life.   As he waited for the water for his tea to boil, she saw him slowly turn his head towards the bedrooms, resting there for a moment before it turned towards the dojo.

_He’s checking in on his family.  Like a good clan leader would._   She’d realized then and had instantly warmed to him despite his outwardly stern demeanor.  There was a second when those cobalt blue eyes had cut towards the direction where she’d sat, and she’d frozen.  He’d frowned, confused, at what should have just been an empty table and unoccupied chairs to his eyes.  She’d fought the sudden urge to make herself visible, just to see how he would react (definitely not just  _for laughs,_ mind you.  Again, for science!).  But then the kettle’s shrill whistle had made him jump, and the moment ended as he’d fallen back into the routine of enjoying those precious seconds of quiet before the others awoke.

_He and Death would get along.  They’d bond over that whole oldest, brooding sibling thing. They should meet._   She thought with a chuckle, presently watching him enjoy the high-energy competition of wills and skills in front of the television.  Her eyes traced the old scars she saw on Leo’s body and thought more soberly.   _Or maybe they already have.  He’s come close.  If not brother himself he may have at least met an acolyte._

A triumphant cry of “ _Booyakasha!  In your face, Donnie-boy!!_ ” signified the end of the game match.  She grinned as the youngest of the clan rose and did a little dance, asking his brother who was the best?  HE was the best!

“You may be the Mario Kart Champion, but you have LEAGUES to go before you dethrone Mikey the Smash Master at Smash Brothers!” Mikey cooed with the smuggest expression in the direction of his defeated brother.

Donnie rolled his eyes.  “That’s because ‘Mikey the Smash Master’ has an unfair advantage!  You play this  _everyday_  while  _some_  of us have more important things to do!”

“Dude, if it’s any consolation, better and greater men have tried what you just tried, and they failed just as hard.  I hear one gave up his life as a gamer completely and became a Buddhist monk in Tibet.”

“What?   _What??_ ” Donnie squawked indignantly, not exactly the picture of a good loser.  “ _When_  did this happen?”

“Huh?  I don’t know the exact  _date_  or anything.  He probably took a few months being in denial before he began to spiral into depre--”

“ _None of this ever happened, Mikey!!_ ”

Mikey frowned at him.  “How would YOU know?  Did you meet him?”

“Of course not!   _Because it never happened!_   There was NO  _better and greater men_  and definitely not one that  _became a Buddhist monk in Tibet!!_ ” Donnie howled as Mikey’s constant goading throughout their match finally got under his skin.  She giggled, noticing the sly glint in the oh-so-innocent blue eyes.   _This little one is crafty._

“How would YOU know?  Did the guy that left gaming to become a mural painter in Fresno tell you--”

“ARRRGGH!  Enough of this.  I’m going to my lab!” Donnie exclaimed, tossing the controller down with as much force as if it had been a white flag of surrender.  His brothers watched him go with amused expressions.

When the lab’s door slammed shut, Mikey gave the red-masked brother, Raph, the cheekiest of grins.  “Some Mario Kart Champion  _that_  guy was.  The _last one_  was  _so_  much better.  Hotter too.”

Raph’s verdant gaze was bright with pride and amusement. “The  _last one_  agrees and approves.  On everything you just said.”

“Then he better give me some sugar,” Mikey purred, crawling towards the couch where Raph sat.  The older turtle leaned forward and met him halfway in a chaste kiss that quickly transformed into something else despite the choked sound that came from their eldest brother.

“Oh for the love of-- _WHY DO YOU TWO ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME?_!” Leo was glaring at them, face flushed an interesting shade of pink (especially against the green skin), as he leapt to his feet.  She fell the ground and laughed until there were tears in her eyes.  She was laughing so hard that she couldn’t even watch as Leo stomped off in some other direction, muttering to himself the entire time.  The couple did, though, and they’d dissolved into laughter well before Leo was out of earshot.

“Too easy,” Mikey remarked and then began to hiccup as a result of laughing so hard.

Raph shook his head fondly.  He stood and held out a hand that was rough and callused from years of training and combat.  “Again?  Come on, doofus.  Let’s try that belching thing again with the soda before it gets out of control.”

_Aww, my heart.  So CUTE.  Soooo cute!_   She gushed as the two walked hand-in-hand towards the kitchen.  She’d honestly given the other brothers a thorough analysis and a fair  _chance_  at being the ones to continue their bloodline, to save their species.  But really, what chance did either Donnie or Leo have--even  _without_  the mildly disturbing sexual attraction that they both held toward human females (again, EWW)--when this loving and sweet relationship was what they had to contend with?  There being an alternate  _choice_  at all even seemed absurd at this point.

Raph was the second oldest.  He was the bad boy of the group: short-tempered, foul-mouthed, and quick to lash out with fists rather than words when something irritated him.  Physically, he was the biggest of the four turtles and wielded the sais with such grace and power that it made her wonder how such a perfect specimen had come into being by  _accident_.

Beneath that tough guy act was so much more, though.  She’d seen it in every gentle touch and warm look.  And it wasn’t solely for his mate (though Mikey laid claim to the vast majority).  It wasn’t hard to determine that Raph’s self-appointed role in the odd little family was the protector, a shield set to defend his loved ones against all foes.  The way he took care of Mikey, even as he called him insulting names in that exasperated tone, spoke to her in a way nothing else did.

What had ultimately sold her, though, was the collection of birds he kept and cared for.  There was a small aviary on one of the roofs the turtles regularly visited, one that Raph--the beer-loving, skull-bashing motorcycle enthusiast--maintained.  New York was in no shortage of feral pigeons (also called city doves or rock pigeons, FYI), but to see a  _mutated ninja turtle_  lovingly feeding, watering, and caring for them was truly something special to behold.  Hamato Raphael was an excellent candidate to father the next generation of mutant ninja turtles.

But if Raph was going to father anything, there had to be a  _mother_.  Therein lay her greatest challenge in this case.

_Hic!  Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.  Hic!_

“Ugh, Mikey!  Why in my face?!  Wait, what...have you been eating those barbeque wasabi honey chips again?!”

Mikey’s entire body twitched as he continued to hiccup.  His expression became dreamy at the question.  “Oh yeah...found some leftover in the cabinet this morning.  They went perfectly with the hotdog sundae I made.   _Hic!_ ”

Raph made a disgusted noise.  “ _Mi-key_!!  You KNOW what it does to you!  The last time you ate them we had to evacuate the Lair for three days until it aired out!”

“ _Chillax_ , bro,” Mikey cooed as he walked over to one of the drawers.  “I’ll— _hic_ —just  take one of those industrial strength Bean-o’s Donnie made.  One pop and I’ll be...uh oh.”

Raph glared.  “Uh oh?”

“I forgot.  We’re, uh, out.  Probably ‘cause chili night…” Mikey sheepishly held up an empty jar.  It had a label that had once said ‘Anti-gastric Pills,’ but at some point someone had put a line through the words and written ‘Fart-No-More ’

Raph slapped a hand to his forehead.  “ _MIKEY!!”_

Watching them interact, she giggled again.  Mikey had that effect on most people, she’d quickly discovered.  He was like sunshine.  There was no better word to describe it.  He was goofy and innocent and... _happy_ , more often found smiling (if he wasn’t laughing uncontrollably) at things as simple as a well-made sandwich or his favorite show coming onto the television.  He spoke quickly and enthusiastically, his body just as animated.  Nearly every word that came out of his mouth showed his unorthodox way of thinking and eclectic imagination.

He was the constant source of the many moans and groans of his brothers, but she could see how adored he was by all of them.  For very good reason.  What she had pieced together about the turtles’ history and how they got their start had showed her that their lives had been full of turmoil for many, many years.  The darkness that could have easily consumed them had been kept at bay by a strong family bond--a big part of which had to do with the simple happiness of the youngest family member acting as a constant reminder that for all the evils in the universe that there was always light if one looked hard enough.

It wasn’t rocket science to figure out how such a bright spirit could tame the wild fire that burned within Raph.  Mikey was cherished and most fiercely guarded by his mate, whom he doted upon in return without even a hint of embarrassment.  Even if she could have found a female turtle to pair Raph with, she knew she wouldn’t have bothered.  His chosen mate was the only perfect match.  To breed them together, however, was going to take some imagination.

_As M always says.  Nothing worth keeping is without its share of work to do so._   She thought, able to perfectly hear her big sister’s melodic voice in her head.  For once, she didn’t scowl and immediately think up a counter-argument or witty comeback.  Just, uh, don’t tell M that, please.  She’d NEVER live it down if her  _any_  of siblings heard that she was  _listening_  to their advice.

She left the Lair to continue her research.  Her mission’s goal had shifted from Assessment to Implementation.  Some ideas occurred to her as to the _how_ , but most were distasteful even to her.  One glaring difficulty lay in the fact that these were sentient beings, therefore subject to a higher level of care when it came to her intervention.  Had they been like some of the other glorious creatures that she’d saved from extinction, doing something as simple as creating a child from their genetic material and then implanting until birth would have been the safest course of action.  

But being that these WERE sentient beings, there was the whole emotional and mental distress  _thing_  to worry about.  Stress of that level often led to the destruction of a species, not salvation.  Plus, she didn’t  _want_  to cause them any stress like that.  She’d grown quite fond of them, far fonder than she had of any species in a long time.

_I am woefully uneducated about the physical makeup of a turtle-slash-human.  If that goo they were transformed with made them share some traits with those disgusting beasts, then what I need to figure out is what is turtle and what is not._   She broke down logically and then brightened when an idea hit her.  What better way to learn about turtles than to go find some?

It took her several hops around the world.  She started in the wild, looking first at sea turtles and then an aggressive species that lived in swamps and marshlands.  She looked through another gamut of turtle types, even studying some tortoises while she was at it.  They didn’t teach her much that she didn’t already know, especially since their reaction to her was either blank acknowledgment or outright terror that shone in the beady eyes that looked out at her from within their protective shells.  She did, however, begin to have a basic understanding of the body of a terrapin and how it was comprised.

Bored with lakes and islands, she decided to see what she could learn from a  _human_ knowledge base.  Several aquariums proved to be more eye-candy than informative.  The zoos were even less helpful, but at least there was good ice cream.  She lapped up the delicious concoction of frozen cream and sugar (orangesicle: YUM.), enjoying it so much that she didn’t even mind the humans that crowded around her in hopes of getting a glimpse of the rare South China Tiger that a zookeeper was droning on and on about.

It was there in front of the tiger exhibit that she  _felt_  him before she even turned.  When she did turn, she gave an annoyed huff.  “Oh  _come on_!  Here?   _Here?!_   Are you  _kidding_?  You’re going to do this  _here_  when there are  _children_  watching.  The next time you try to lecture ME about appropriate  _time_ and  _place_ , remember this moment!  Well, I’ll have you know,  _mister_ , that I already have this species of tiger on the Protection list.  So unless you are here for one of these meat sacks…”

She paused, brightening cheerfully at the thought of  _one less human_.  “Oh!  In that case, don’t let me stop you.  Do you need help selecting or do you already have an appointment?”

Her all-time favorite depiction of Death, ironically, had originated on Earth: a skeletal figure shrouded in an oversized black cloak that carried a menacing scythe.  The truth was far less interesting.  Like the rest of the Keepers, Death took on a form that was easiest to behold depending on what kind of beings that he was dealing with.

On Earth, he favored a tall, slim man in his mid-thirties.  His hair was dark and neatly slicked back, revealing a broad face, dark eyes, a long aristocratic nose, and pointed chin.  He was impeccably dressed: a crisp white shirt with golden cufflinks (haha, a pair of crossed scythes; her brother had a sense of humor somewhere in there!), a steel-blue silk vest, a red and black striped tie, neatly pressed gray pants, and expensive-looking shoes.  The closest thing that he had to the legendary black cloak of the Grim Reaper was a trench coat draped over one of his arms.  

The gist?  Death looked more like a polished lawyer or a politician or a stockbroker rather than a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness.  Her theory was that whoever had come up with the legend had mistaken Death with one of his acolytes; now THOSE guys were always wearing those kooky oversized cloaks.  They thought it looked  _cool_.  Yeah well...did she ever mention how  _overworked_  those guys were?

“I’m partial to that guy leaning over the rail heckling the tiger.  Hey, you wouldn’t even have to  _do_  much.  Just a, uh,  _strong gust of wind_  and BLAMMO!  Fresh soul for reaping AND that lovely down there gets an extra snack today.  Win-win for everyone!” she went on when her brother let the silence stretch on for too long.

The corners of his eyes tightened, the closest to rolling them as he’d ever get.  When he spoke, his voice was low and smooth.  “I didn’t come for any of them.  I came for  _you_.”

He paused, his dark eyes flitting up.  He was probably looking at the giraffe-head hat she had purchased from the gift shop.  What?  It was cute!  Death raised an eyebrow.  “Do I even want to ask?”

She made a face at him.  “ _Excuse you_.  I happen to be  _working_.”

Death’s eyes flicked from her hat to the melted ice cream dripping down her hand.  “Really.”

“Yes, REALLY!  Not all of us can have an army of acolytes to do our bidding, you know.   _Some_  of us LIKE to get our hands dirty and do the legwork!” she retorted heatedly.  She glared at him as she licked the sticky deliciousness off of her hand.  “So you found me!  Congratulations.  You are a legend among detectives.  You can go now.  Bye!”

Death didn’t even blink at her tone.  He never did.  “You haven’t been answering Father’s calls.”

“I told Juno to let him know that I was busy.  Which I  _am_  as you can see.”

“Being a human.  And going to the zoo.”

“I’m doing research for a case,” she retorted testily and before he could ask, blustered on, “and before you ask, it’s  _none of your business!_   It’s MY work, and I’m doing it!  What does daddy need so badly that he’s sending YOU to find me?  Ugh, he’s so  _annoying_!  He never trusts me!”

She fumed and ranted about the many faults of being the youngest child of such an overbearing Father.  Not that Death really understood (though he listened politely enough).  He was the oldest and the favorite, the one above the many rules that seemed to make up her life, even above the Plan.  He, the reaper of souls, could do no wrong.  Why did Father have to send  _him_ of all people?  She was so frustrated that she began to cry.  Damn it all!  This was DEATH’s fault!

“What are you working on?” Death asked her after she was done and felt much calmer.

“Turtles,” she mumbled, wiping at her slimy face.  How gross.  She hated being in human form.

“Sounds exciting,” her brother said, and she couldn’t tell if he was being serious or teasing her.  Before she could go on the defensive again, he wisely went on in a gentle voice.  “Have you made a decision?  Do you need my help?”

“No.  I’m going to save them.  I’m trying to figure out how without, you know, freaking anyone out or causing any new miracle crusades or whatever,” She tried not to sound petulant and whiny, but it was hard after a tantrum.  She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, banking on it deterring Death from interrogating her any further.  It always worked like a charm.

“Alright.  Well, let me know.  I have a few appointments to keep, but I can make the time if you need,” Death went on, the picture of perfection and ice as always.  He turned to go but paused to add.  “Give Father a call?  You know he worries.”

She made a dismissive gesture, but at least it was acknowledgment.  Death left as swiftly as he’d come, disappearing through the crowd of people who didn’t even know how close they’d literally come to being face to face with him.  She took a few cleansing breaths, angry at herself for letting her brother and Father get to her like that.  They were just so  _annoying_.

_Don’t think about them.  You have a mission to accomplish.  Happy thoughts!  How are you going to give Raph and Mikey some adorable little turtle babies to fill the Lair with?_   She thought and forced herself back to the problem at hand.  As she passed by the man she’d suggested as a sacrifice, she caught him giving her a strange look, probably noticing her blotchy face.

“It’s your lucky day, meat sack.  Stop heckling the tiger or my brother’s going to come back and heckle  _you_ ,” she hissed and then left, feeling better at the startled, wide-eyed look that she’d left on his face.


	6. The Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something fishy is a-Foot.

The Foot Clan had seen better days.  Once a proud and powerful clan, it had enjoyed a certain level of notoriety from the very beginning.  When it had been at its most powerful, few clans could truly rival it either politically or in strength of numbers.  At its height, under the ironclad fist of Oroku Saki, better known as the Shredder, both the Foot Clan’s enemies and allies alike had trembled before their might.

_Then_  and  _now_  are two very different things.

It was almost embarrassing to see such a prestigious clan reduced to little more than a scattered amalgamation of gangs, all vying for the right to rule the clan.  The Shredder had been a hard master to serve, but what he’d brought to the clan was order and discipline, two things that the clan had lost with his defeat at the hands of the Hamato clan.  In retrospect, perhaps the Shredder’s undoing should not have come as a surprise as it had.  After all, if his own daughter had betrayed him to aid their worst enemy, then perhaps his defeat had been inevitable.

Whatever the case, the clan that had been left behind had was little more than a shadow of its former self.  If you could even call what was left a clan.  The fact that their own members had begun to accept their enemy’s nickname for them as the  _Foot Gang_  only compounded the humiliation.

The members that had not died in the long struggle with the Hamatos had been left in the unusual position of what to do with their lives after the war had ended.  A number, the wiser ones perhaps, had chosen to separate themselves from the battered clan and moved on while they still could.  Some that had remained had either done so out of some misguided loyalty or because there was no other lifestyle for them, no other place to go.  Then there were those that willfully stayed in hopes that they could rebuild the Foot to its former glory--this time in  _their_ image.

_Look at them.  Like vermin fighting over scraps.  You would be so ashamed, Master.  Forgive me for allowing them to live, but for your plan to succeed, there must be bodies to do your bidding._   Ando Hidan thought, his heart burning with contempt and renewed grief as he watched the two former lieutenants of the Shredder bicker like children.  When Oroku Saki had found him working mindlessly in the genetics lab all those years ago in Shinjuku, Hidan had never dreamed that he would ever rise to such an esteemed position in something as great as the Foot Clan.  To see it left in the hands of these buffoons was almost more than Hidan could bear.

To call either Xever or Bradford  _leaders_  was laughable at best.  They must have been somewhat capable in their former lives, Hidan tried to reason, if someone as great as Oroku Saki had thought that they would be assets to the great Foot Clan.  To be fair, they had been somewhat useful,  _bumbling_ , but still somehow managing to accomplish  _some_  of the goals that the Shredder had set out to accomplish.  But overall, they were both arrogant fools that were more invested in their own interests and glorification rather than the clan’s needs.

_At this rate, we will never have justice.  I will not allow them to further sully the great clan that you and I have built, my Master._

The clan was divided into several groups, but Xever and Bradford held the reins on the two most powerful segments.  They had a tentative alliance, one built entirely out of necessity.  There was no love lost on either side nor was there even the illusion of trust.  Yet, a common enemy and similar goals had helped to prevent the (many) little skirmishes between their respective gangs from becoming major incidents.  Against all odds, the two fools had become a somewhat cohesive team--just a team that knew better than to turn their backs on each other.

“You should have stuck to the plan,” Bradford snarled.  His golden eyes were ablaze with fury, spittle flying from his elongated jaws as he growled and advanced on Xever.  He could upon first glance be a terrifying sight to behold: a mix between a dog and a demon with his skeletal figure, glowing yellow eyes, horns, and sharp, long claws made of dense bone.  In his enraged state, every word was a low and sinister growl, but his counterpart was unmoved.

“And  _you_  should learn to be flexible,  _idiota_.  Your plan was no good.  Since you plan for complete failure, I will let you fail on your own!” Xever scoffed in reply, glaring right back into the cold golden eyes.  He was a ridiculous combination of fish and mechanical legs, but the modifications that Hidan himself had made over the years combined with Xever’s innate ability to secrete poison made him a formidable foe.

“My plan was flawless.  It’s YOU and those morons who follow you that are the problem,” Bradford spat and advanced threateningly.

In a flash, Xever whipped out a switchblade and let out drawn out hiss.  “Come and get it then, you mangy  _filho da puta_.”

This could have gone on forever and, worse, been exacerbated by the added antics of their henchmen.  Hidan stepped forward and cleared his throat.  “If I may?”

He received two venomous glares.  It was Bradford who pointed out in a warning manner. “We’re having a conversation.”

_If that is what you call it_.  Outwardly, Hidan offered them an amiable smile, feigning an apology that burned him.  “Forgive me, but I merely wish to point out that despite any setbacks that we may have suffered during this foray, we ARE on schedule.  We only need the final piece.”

“Final piece of  _what?_   You have us on this wild goose chase, but you still have not told us what the Shredder’s plan is,” Xever said accusingly.  After a beat, he added. “Or why we should even follow it still.”

Hidan gave him a cold, speculating look.  “Your meaning?”

“The Shredder is  _dead_.  Why should we follow the wishes of a dead man?” Xever had the audacity to ask.

Hidan turned so that he was fully facing him, trying to keep the cold rage inside of him.  “So you are saying that you are refusing to complete our Master’s last wish?  I find that interesting since you have been cooperative up until now.  Our Master was equally dead then so I am curious to know what has changed between then and  _now_.”  Hidan paused and cocked his head, eyes narrowing speculatively.  “Unless...you have lost your nerve?”

Predictably, Xever bristled at being accused of cowardice.  He flicked the switchblade threateningly in Hidan’s direction.  “Watch your mouth, old man.  Unless you want to lose that tongue.”

“I meant no disrespect.  I am merely making an observation.  If fear is truly keeping you back, perhaps another would be more suitable to lead this particular operation,” Hidan said, his eyes sliding from Xever’s cowardly face to Bradford’s insufferably smug one.

“Yeah, Fishface,” Bradford piped up, grinning. “If you’re  _scared_  leave this to the adults.  You can guard the warehouse.  That’s nice and safe.”

“I’m not scared,” Xever snapped, glaring between Hidan and Bradford.  “I just want to know what I am risking my neck for.  Honoring the will of a dead man is no good if it leaves you dead as well.”

“A valid point,” Hidan amended the same time Bradford let out a snort and muttered, “Gutless worm.”

Hidan went on.  “Master Shredder may be gone, but it does not mean his goals are not relevant to our current interests.   If anything, it is because of his death that we should want more than ever to bring his final wish into fruition.  Our enemy thinks that we are beaten and broken.”  He looked between the two fools and asked softly.  “Are we?”

The truthful answer was probably something closer to ‘maybe’, but neither Xever nor Bradford would ever admit to such a thing.  Their unshaking faith was not required, however.  Hidan only needed to appeal to their wounded pride enough to gain the cooperation that would be necessary to accomplish his goals.  If anyone had felt the sting of defeat at the hands of the Hamato clan, it had been these two.

“If we  _are_  on track, as you’ve said, then what’s next?  When do we actually go after the turtles?” Bradford asked.  Xever had fallen into a sullen silence, clearly realizing that he would get no direct answer from Hidan no matter how much he swung his little blade around.

“Very soon,” Hidan assured them.  Just past Bradford’s massive form, Hidan saw a shadowy figure detach itself from the far wall and patiently hover beside the doorway, waiting for him to finish with Xever and Bradford.  Hidan clasped his hands together behind his back, barely able to contain the excitement he felt at how close they were to their end goal.  “The plan has already been set in motion.  We need only wait.  They will come to  _us_.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Muscle memory drove Leo to duck just in time to avoid a roundhouse kick that came soaring towards his head. He felt the power behind the kick in the wind that rushed past him.  Not missing a beat, he jabbed upward with the butt of his katana.  The blow was intercepted by a downward block, protecting the vulnerable space between shell and plastron that Leo had been aiming for.

Leo could tell his attack had made some impact, though; Raph’s eyes blazed green with fury as the block sent a jarring sensation up his arm.  Never one to let pain deter him, he gritted his teeth, and swung with his other arm.  Leo leapt back and slashed with his other sword.  His blade made a sharp  _tang_  sound as steel met steel.  Raph twisted his wrist and locked the katana’s blade in place with one of the sai’s prongs.  They stayed that way for a moment, each testing and trying each other, pushing until the other relented.

Planting his feet, knees slightly bent, Leo held his ground.  Raph was a force to be reckoned with no matter at what level of training they were partaking in.  With his great strength and fiery personality, he had been Leo’s main training partner since they had been children.  Donnie’s sharp mind had always pushed Leo to become a better strategist, and Mikey’s unorthodox style forced him to stay on his toes, but Raph’s skill and sheer strength was what had always challenged Leo the most out of his brothers.

They finally broke apart and to exchange a series of attacks.  Training together for their entire lives had made them both intimately familiar with each other’s fighting styles.  Leo could confidently fight his brother knowing that Raph could take whatever he dished out.  At the same time, he’d learned more about self-control and what his own limits were through fighting his hot-headed brother.  Even now, Raph could always find a way to surprise him.

“Come on, Fearless.  Why are you holding back?” Raph challenged when they shoved apart and proceeded to circle one another slowly.  Leo was panting ever so slightly, his entire body teeming with adrenaline and exhilaration.  He saw a similar look in Raph’s eyes; it was mixed with an unbridled joy that Leo only ever saw in Raph when he was in the heat of combat.

Leo didn’t rise to the bait.  Instead, he patiently continued to watch Raph, looking for the minute twitches, shifts in weight, changes in breathing--things that would signify movement.  He tracked Raph quietly, noting the rising irritation as Raph’s patience began to waver.   _Any second now.  Any second..._

Raph swiveled his sais and lunged.  Leo sidestepped and brought both of his swords down, arms locking at the elbows to meet Raph’s pivot and follow-up attack.  Even braced for impact, he was staggered by the power behind the kick--and this was Raph going  _easy!_   Leo absorbed the impact by stepping back with one leg, but in a split second, he’d recovered, feinted right and aimed a low kick to sweep his opponent’s leg out from under him.  Raph managed to avoid the kick and retaliated with one of his own, but it lacked the leverage of the first kick and only served to put some distance between them.

This time, Leo pressed his attack.  He managed to drive Raph backwards, but his brother again met him blow for blow.  The sounds of clashing metal and their grunts and harsh breaths fill the dojo as they danced, dodged, and fought their way across its floor.  Only minutes must have passed, but by the time Master Splinter called for an end to their match, Leo felt as if he’d gone several rounds with an entire army of Foot Clan ninjas.

To his credit, Raph collapsed to the ground beside him, equally spent.  He lay spread eagle, trying to catch his breath while Leo knelt and tried to do the same.  When he had his breathing under control, Raph slid one eye open and peered at him.  “Nice one, Leo.  A few more minutes, and I would have had you.  Admit it.”

Leo couldn’t help but to smirk.  He raised an eyebrow.  “What?  Oh, I get it.  I must have hit you on the head at some point.”

Raph snorted as he sat up and folded his legs under him, feeling too good from the tough sparring match to be incensed back into battle.  “Like you _could_.”

Splinter cleared his throat to draw their attention, and just like that the trash talk session was over.  He looked both of them up and down.  “You two have grown strong.  Your styles balance one another well.  You must continue to push yourselves and each other no matter how familiar you become, however.  The moment complacency sets in is when foolish mistakes begin.”

The words resonated deeply in Leo.  He found himself nodding, absorbing the wisdom that their father imparted so naturally.  He could only hope that one day he himself would be as wise as the great Hamato Yoshi.  The weight of this burden hung heavily over Leo, who would one day be entrusted with both the leadership and safety of the Hamato clan.  He did his best to be worthy of it, but a small part of Leo wasn’t sure he’d  _ever_  be ready.

Splinter’s lecture about complacency on the battlefield was brief.  He released them from the training session earlier than he would have normally.  With the brothers planning on a late evening patrol, it wouldn’t have boded well to continue training and risk injury.

_Speaking of injuries._   Leo grimaced as he rose and felt the slight twinge in his knee.  It was from an injury years ago, from their earliest battles with the Shredder.  While it had pretty much recovered, it had never felt the same as it had prior to his injury.  As the years went by, he had a feeling that the twinges and aches would only increase tenfold as age and general wear and tear wore his body down.  But it couldn’t be helped.  There were still enemies out there.

They found Mikey and Donnie in the kitchen.  Donnie was flipping through the television that he’d recently repaired and put up in the kitchen along with a beat up laptop.  It was mostly for Mikey to use when he wanted to watch cooking shows or stream recipes from the internet.  Mikey himself was at the stove managing an impressive number of pots that were bubbling and emitting tantalizing smells.

_“--how could you, Eduardo?  How could you??  Do you not know how to love--”_

_“--for the low price of NINETEEN NINETY-NINE NINETY NINE this entire set could be YOURS!  Just NINE--”_

_“--AAASUKKKKEEE!!” … “NAAARRUUUTOOOO!!”... “SAAAASUKKEEEE!!”... “NARU--”_

_“--worst oil spill since the BP spill in the Gulf of Mexico back in 2010.  Local game and wildlife officials estimate that this could take years to clean up properly.  A spokesman for the National Wildlife Federation stated that the damage to the ecosystem could be irreparable and that there are some rare and endangered species of birds that can only be found in this region of the world…”_

Donnie made a sympathetic noise and glanced up in time to see Leo and Raph enter the kitchen.  While Raph meandered over to see what Mikey was cooking, Leo plopped down on the nearest stool and nodded to the laptop in front of Donnie.  “Have you found anything yet, Donnie?”

His younger brother shook his head.  “Not yet.  It’s still downloading the latest calls for service from the NYPD database.  From a preliminary look, I can tell there’s been an increase in disturbance calls of the same nature around the city, but it’s hard to say if it’s just common thuggery or if the Foot’s really up to something, pardon the pun,  _fishy_.”

Leo’s brows furrowed as he mulled over this.  “But you still think it’s the Foot.”

“It  _has_  to be, Leo.  It can’t be a coincidence that their activity has suddenly increased in the past few months.  And  _worldwide_.  We tend to forget that the Foot isn’t just what we deal with here in New York but also an interconnecting conglomerate that stretches all the way to  _Japan_.  The information that I got from Interpol’s database only adds credence to this theory,” Donnie replied without even a bit of uncertainty.  He’d studied their enemy for many years to know their behavior and what to look for.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t very reassuring when he recognized the signs of their enemy’s movements.

Leo grimly scanned the list of seemingly unrelated thefts that Interpol had logged, not really seeing them as his mind went over what they already knew.  He didn’t need to read them to know that he would find nothing directly tying the Foot back to the thefts.  Even broken and divided after the Shredder’s death, there were still those in charge within the clan’s remnants that were savvy enough to keep their dealings out of the public eye.  The ones that remained in New York (dubbed the Foot Gang by Mikey) had not caused more trouble than a strong-armed robbery or two.  So why the change  _now_?

“Do you have a list of what’s been taken so far?” he asked.  

Donnie shook his head.  “Sort of but I won’t be able to confirm it unless we can get more information.  The target buildings have all been of the same type, though.  Laboratories or warehouses of the manufacturers used by laboratories.  It’s the research that’s been stolen along with the parts is what I’m concerned about.  Whatever it is that the Foot is up to, they’re trying to build something, something related to interdimensional travel.”

Mikey bursting into giggles momentarily drew their attention to the other two turtles.  Neither were paying them any mind.  Instead, Mikey was chuckling to himself and evading Raph, whose face was covered with splats of red sauce.  Leo watched them playfully dart around the kitchen for a second before he looked back at Donnie.  The serious look in Donnie’s brown eyes told him that they were already thinking along the same lines.

“We need to know why they’re suddenly so interested in interdimensional travel.  And we need to know  _who_  is behind this plan,” Leo stated in a voice low enough that only Donnie would hear him.  For once, he was glad for Mikey and Raph’s tendency to focus on one another when they were in a safe enough environment to do so.  Unwittingly, his mind’s eye flashed back to another time, to another dimension where logic was backwards and the laws of physics made even less sense.  

_The feeling of Raph so still in his arms as his brother’s blood soaked through bandage after bandage and pooled around his legs.  The cold, cold look in Mikey’s unnaturally blue eyes, face already covered in bits of pink flesh and alien blood, as he fought like a turtle possessed, killing every Kraang that he could get his hands on.  Not even Leo and Donnie combined had been able to stop Mikey, who was driven by grief, hatred, and a thirst to avenge the one whom he’d thought had been taken from him forever._

Leo shivered, reminding himself that they’d overcome that dark time.  God willing, they’d never be in that position again.  Across from him, Donnie seemed to be coming out of his own solemn reverie.  If the Foot were trying to contact the Kraang again, they would be stopped.  Perhaps this time they would have to put an end to the Foot Gang permanently.  If Leo had any say so, the doorway to Dimension X would  _never_  be opened again.


	7. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human biology complicates the case, but it's nothing she can't handle. But in the meantime, disaster strikes on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the words of encouragement! I'm so pleased to see that you all enjoy reading this as much I as I have enjoyed writing it. Starting this chapter, some darker themes will start trickling into the story. In this chapter, I'm putting up a warning for death, particularly in animals and some mildly disturbing content. If you are sensitive to these sort of things, please use discretion before reading. Otherwise, please enjoy.

_Great stars and galaxies!  What was I thinking asking for this??  Mistakes were made! **Mistakes were made!**_   She couldn’t turn the display screen off fast enough to drown out the pained howls of the human woman.  The terrible image continued to hover at the forefront of her thoughts, burned into it her mind’s eye as clearly as the screams that continued to ring in her ears.  Flustered didn’t begin to describe how she felt.  Bewildered was a good start.  Horrified was much closer.   _Disgusted_  or  _nauseous_  or--

“What’s with the face?” M’s amused question was accompanied by a throaty chuckle.  When their eyes met, she found M eyeing her with a little smile curling at the corner of her lips.  Cocking her head ever so slightly, M went on.  “You act as if this is the first time you’ve seen a human give birth.”

“That,” she managed to retort, lifting an accusing finger in the direction of the now blank screen, “was  _not_  giving birth.  That was a person getting  _ripped in half_.”

“Hmm.  How very melodramatic of you.  They were doing no such thing. Even if  _that_  had been required, the doctors would have healed her right up,” her sister replied serenely, waving a dismissive hand.  “Why did you _ask_  to see this if you are so disturbed by it?”

“I didn’t know I was asking to see someone get  _tortured_!  It was like this centuries ago.  I thought they would have advanced enough to overcome this!  Why wouldn’t they devote all of their resources to making this easier on their women?  That looked as barbaric as it did when they first started breeding!” she exclaimed, feeling a renewed sense of disbelief at how primitive the Earthlings were.  One would have thought that for all their supposed ‘medical advances’ that one of them would have been making childbirth something NOT akin to the bloody, gory mess that she’d just watched.

_Oh, what am I saying?  I give them far more credit than they are due!_   She tried to shake the image of the squalling woman from her mind, but some things could not be unseen.   _Ugh.  No wonder it’s like seeing it for the first time.  I must have been traumatized after the first time I saw this and wiped it from my memory.  The things I ENDURE in the name of work…_

M had patiently been nodding along as she’d ranted.  When she was done, M gave her a sugary-sweet smile, not even bothering to hide her amusement.  She couldn’t help but to feel that the pat her sister gave her on the top of her head was  _slightly_  condescending.  “You’re so cute, little sister.”

One annoying thing about M was that she was what every culture across the Universe perceived as the perfect woman.  No matter what form she took, she was breath-taking, beautiful in the way that cleared the minds of anyone who laid eyes upon her.  Time seemed to slow down when she was in the room, and the atmosphere seemed lighter.  While beauty was truly in the eye of the beholder, M must have done something right when nearly every single race across the universe worshipped her in some way.

M’s current form was influenced by the warrior people of a planet call Xairthius, a planet of dense jungles and wild rivers located several light years away from Earth’s solar system.  The Xairthii were, believe it or not, humanoids that had evolved from the same stock that Earth’s current day humans had.  They had the same body structure, but their skin had evolved over the long years into a dark gray-blue hue.  Etched into the skin of the Xairthii from birth were thin, dark lines that grew as the Xairthii grew, until they completely covered his or her entire body.  The lines were said to foretell the kind of person the Xairthii would become, and those traits were what would determine his or her place in Xairthii society.  It was also said that you could look on the entire planet of Xairthius and never find two with the same exact pattern of skinlines.

So M’s voluptuous form was not a shocking sight.  Draped only in an ornately beaded red and gold wrap-around robe, her visible skinlines could easily be read as caretaker, life-bringer, family, fertility, and—unsurprisingly—mother.  A curtain of thin braids that had colorful glass beads and Xarthii flowers woven into them hung past her shoulders and down to her mid-back, swept off of her broad, elegant face by a simple headband.  In stark contrast to her dusky-colored skin, her eyes were a warm amber, almost golden in the light of the white lamps that lit the room.

_Nothing to feel inadequate about.  Nothing at all!  Nope.  Remember, THOSE monsters have a purpose in M’s job.  What would I even DO with those glorious things?  It’s not like I NEED to have the Elixer of Life coming out of my breasts anyway, right?  Right._   Thought the Preservationist (not for the first time) as she eyed her sister’s impressive bust.  Not that she couldn’t alter her appearance to mirror M’s, but the fact that she was honest enough with herself to admit that she could never emulate the grace and beauty that her sister exuded—no matter what form she took--should have given her  _some_  credit, right?  Still, she found herself averting her eyes from any reflective surface that might have further driven this point home and, instead, focused on the task at hand, arms firmly crossed over her own ( _perfectly adequate!!_ ) chest.

“You still haven’t told me why you are suddenly interested in human childbirth,” M pointed out lightly.  “I thought you didn’t like humans.”

Well, it wasn’t like she could argue with that.  She waved a hand, trying to sound as casual as possible.  She’d been deftly avoiding all of M’s careful probes to find out the details of her turtle case, and she’d be damned if she was going to reveal more than she wanted to  _now_. “I don’t, but it’s for a case I’m working on.  Are you sure there isn’t an easier way to go about this?  I mean…they haven’t developed any alternative methods yet?  Like how the Trennians breed in labs?  Or how the I’caili use those birth pods?”

M pursed her perfect lips together.  “No, they’re not quite there yet.  There is research, but the closest that the Earthlings have come is surrogacy.”  At her younger sister’s disapproving expression, M smiled and added.  “They’re still doing it the old-fashioned way, I’m afraid.”

_Figures._   “ _Ugh_.  Why is everything so  _difficult_  with them, M?”

Her sister made a little sympathetic noise, and ran a hand through her hair like she’d done their entire lives.  It made her glance up from the cushion that she’d buried her face in (hoping to muffle her utter despair at having to deal with anything remotely human-related).  An idea occurred to her, but she would have to be careful not to reveal too much.  “Hypothetically…is it possible for humans to, uh, lay eggs?”

The fingers carding through her hair stilled.  She put on her most innocent expression and chanced a peek up at M’s face, hoping that she hadn’t come off  _too_  weird (and damned it all if she knew the question was weird—even for  _her_!).  M had a funny expression on her face as she regarded her in return, as if she were trying to puzzle out something particularly vexing.

Finally, she said.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t understand the joke.”

_Oh jeez.  Play it cool.  PLAY IT COOL._  “I’m not joking.  I’m asking.  Just hypothetically.  You know, for science.  Is it possible?”

M’s brows furrowed, bemused.  “For  _science_?”

“M.”

Her sister, upon seeing her unimpressed expression, stopped the inquisition and decided to indulge her.  It was obvious she was fighting a smile as she answered as seriously as possible.  “I suppose that technically it is possible.  But human physiology isn’t meant to lay eggs for a reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one the gestation period is too short.  Humans, like all mammals, need a certain amount of time to fully develop in the womb.  Not only that, but unlike reptiles or birds, they need nourishment from the mother  _while_  they are developing.  Otherwise the brain and other vital organs never mature, and the fetus dies.  Most egg-laying creatures are only pregnant for a relatively short amount of time.  Once the mother has clutched, there is a period of incubation when the fetus finishes developing--given certain conditions such as temperature and lighting are optimal,” M articulated with the absolute certainty of a veteran schoolteacher.

And that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The longer she questioned her sister, the more M unknowingly complicated her case.  By the time she ran out of questions, she was almost tempted to just  _tell_ M about the turtles so that she could give a better frame of reference.  But what would she say?   _So what about a human-turtle hybrid created by goo from another dimension?  Oh, and they’re both male and just happen to be brothers.  Do you think any of this is going to be a problem?_

M went quiet when she saw the increasingly morose look on her face.  The playful teasing faded from her face, and suddenly M was squeezing her hand while gently asking.  “What’s this all about, little sister?  Not that I disapprove that you are showing more interest in humans, but it is…out of character.  What case could you possibly be working on that you would need this much information on human reproduction?”

Her sister sounded so endearing and concerned that she  _nearly_  caved.  Nearly.  She wasn’t  _that_ weak-willed, though!

“Like I said.  Just hypothetical scenarios.  I probably won’t even need any of this, but hey!  It’s good to know, right? ” she blustered cheerfully, waving her hands in front of her as if it would ward M and her suspicions off. 

M didn’t look as if she believed her, but at least her sister knew not to push too hard.  Instead, her sister sighed and gave her a rueful little smile, much like a mother that had dealt with the errant ways of her children before.  “Riiight.  Well, in that case.  If you don’t need me anymore, I need to be going.  I have a very large fertility festival that Father insists I make an appearance at.  He seems to think that stoking their beliefs every few hundred years builds  _good relations_  in future generations.”

There it was.  The F-word.  She stiffened, bracing for it, knowing exactly what was going to come next even as M pretended to be more interested in transforming herself into a form fitting whichever race she would be rushing off to greet.   _Oh ho ho.  Gooood lead in, sis.  Slipped it right on in.  Very clever.  Wait for it.  Any second now.  Heeeeeere it comes!_

“By the way, you need to call him.  He’s been trying to reach you,” M finally stated as she ran a hand through a freshly transfigured head of bright purple dreadlocks.

It must have been a physiological reaction wired into the human body for the eyes to twitch when annoyed. It had to be.  Arms crossed, she wryly remarked.  “My, you and Death are starting to sound an awful lot alike, M.  Does he hand the cue card off to you as you are passing by or were you just issued the same set by daddy?”

M gave her a Look.  “No need to be sassy, little sister.  Father only wants to see you more.  You know he lives for your tea times.”

“Only because I bring the  _good_  stuff Vito and I find throughout the universe.”

“He doesn’t go into details as to why, but the fact still remains.  Do you  _think_  you could find it in your immense heart to spare just a few seconds of your precious time to see him, O great Preservationist?”

“Flattery is so beneath you, M.  Fine, fine.  Whatever.  I’ll call him. Don’t give me that look.  I WILL.  And will you tell the rest of our brothers and sisters to  _stop asking me to call daddy?!_   This is getting old!” she complained with a disgusted shake of her head.

M assured her that she would pass the word along.  In the place of the beautiful Xairthii fertility goddess was the beautiful fertility goddess of the Ma’ha’rit people.  No matter what form, though, M’s smile was as sweet and sunny as ever.  “It’s been fun spending the morning with you, little sister.  May I impart one last bit of advice that you may or may not immediately ignore?”

She couldn’t help but to smile a little.  “Sure.  Why not?”

“Whatever it is that you’re working on, don’t force it.  Life always seems to find a way, no matter what the challenges it may face.  I know your experience has made you…pessimistic, but trust me on this.  Your job is to plant the seeds and to nourish them until they take root.  Don’t  _make_  something happen.  Set the stage and the right conditions.  If the Plan wills it, it will be,” M advised in her soft lilt.  She waved a hand towards the screen they’d been watching, ignoring the yelp of protest from the younger of the two of them.

Instead of the (terrifying) scene of the woman laboring on a bloody bed, what was depicted was the same woman in a much more serene place.  She’d been cleaned up and was propped up by two large pillows.  The curtains had been pulled back to let in the sunshine, and it seemed to make everything in the room glow in a soft, warm light, including the woman.  But she didn’t seem to notice, instead focusing entirely on the wriggling bundle of pink in her arms.  Her expression was enraptured and blissfully content.  It was almost hard to tell that the woman lovingly cooing at the newborn in her arms was the same one that had been screaming bloody murder trying to bring it into the world.

“You stopped it before it got to the best part,” M said, smiled again, and then shimmered out of existence.

Left with this strangely moving scene to watch and her sister’s cryptic advice, the Preservationist felt a dangerous rush of sentimentality well up within her.  She thought of Mikey and Raph and what it would be like to see them with children of their own.  Before now, she hadn’t thought beyond the idea of the turtles breeding to continue their kind.  Normally, that’s all it was to her: an endangered species being brought back from the brink, a small victory over Death. 

While there was some joy to be had in watching a dying species slowly claw its way back, she’d never had the added element of sentience in any of the cases prior to this one.  This wouldn’t just be a species being saved; this was a family line continuing on.  This would be two beings taking the huge step into parenthood, to take on the responsibility of loving and raising children that would carry all of their hopes and dreams into the future.  She  _had_ to get this right.  This case suddenly mattered a whole lot more than just saving an endangered species of turtles.

It renewed her determination.  What had she even been whining about?  So what if there seemed to be an endless amount of challenges standing in her way?  The end result would just be more satisfying.  With this thought cheering her up, she gathered all that she’d learned over the past few weeks for another review.  Her knowledge of both turtles and humans had increased by leaps and bounds.

_Now then.  Think think think.  How does this help you?  We know they’re hybrids so their bodies will have traits from both sides.  Just how much, though?  How much can I safely edit, if need be, without causing any harm?_   She mulled over it for a while, unsure how much time had passed before an alarm pulled her out of her work.

It wasn’t often that she heard this alert tone.  It was one saved for the direst of situations, when something had happened that had directly interfered with the path set forth by the Plan.  So when she identified it, her head snapped upward just in time to see several warning messages begin to appear in rapid succession.  She leapt out of her seat and began to sift through them, trying to figure out what was happening, but more and more alert messages kept pouring in.

“Juno!  What’s going on?” she cried.  Juno had been rudely awoken by the shrill beeping.  He yowled in confusion for a moment, but quickly recovered and bounded onto the back of her seat so that he could help her get a handle on the many incoming messages.

“It’s—it’s about Earth,” she reported, dread settling into the pit of her stomach like a cold, hard rock.  It took a few moments to get everything under control, but she’d been able to glean the source of the alert messages: an oil tanker had struck another ship and was spilling a massive amount of oil into the ocean.  The spill was so bad that oil was already washing into the nearby capes and bays—many of which were the only habitats remaining for some of the most critically endangered animals on Earth.

“I have to go, Juno.  I-I have to go see how bad,” she stammered, feeling flustered.  She forced herself to stay calm, to assess what she would need to do.  She summoned the Plan and was further bewildered by the sight of entries in the Plan disappearing, moving, or  _re-writing themselves._   The Plan was changing before her eyes, taking in new information and flexing to accommodate and adapt.  There was so much changing that she couldn’t even follow it all.

She hurried out to see the disaster with her own eyes.  Unsure where to even begin, she found her way to the spill site and was stopped in her tracks by what she saw.  It had been many, many years since something had stunned her to the point of silence.  Yet as she gazed down upon the sinking, burning wreckage of the oil tanker and the smaller ship that it had somehow collided with, she found that nothing but a rush of  _revulsion-sadness-anger_  continually looped through her, gaining strength with each pass.

From the sky, the oil that had yet to ignite made a deceptively beautiful fractal.  When the sunlight hit the slick surface, it emitted an array of colors that shimmered and glistened as it bobbed along with the motion of the ocean.  The oil seeped from the side of the wreckage like blood gushing from an open wound.  It poured into the ocean, contaminating it, expanding in blobs of black and reddish-brown plumes under the water’s surface.

_Oh Father.  What have they done_?? She thought.  Rescue crews had been called in to tend to the fire.  They came in several ships that surrounded the wreckage, each desperately deploying hoses to counteract the spread of flames.  Helicopters hovered overhead, some brought in to help suppress the flames while others were there with the expressed purpose of rescuing any survivors.  She only watched them for a short time before her attention shifted to the sight of fish and other marine life frantically trying to escape the foreign cloud of crude oil that was filling their home.

_I have to stop this.  I have to!_   She knew that it would be breaking the rules, namely the one that dictated that unless it was in direct violation to the Plan that she should not interfere.  The fact that the Plan was rewriting itself was proof enough that this disaster, while unexpected, was something it was  _allowing._   At that moment she couldn’t have cared less, not when she could  _feel_  the terror welling up from thousands of animals that were already caught up in the murky cloud of sure death.  More and more were joining them the longer she took no action.   _I can stop this.  I can save them!_

But even as she raised her hands to do so, to intervene and save what precious lives that she could, a voice spoke to her so clearly and firmly that it was as if it had come from right beside her.  It resonated within her, the authority and power behind the gentle voice so absolute that she could do nothing but obey.   _“Stop.”_

She gritted her teeth and lashed back desperately.  “No.  NO.  How could you?   _How could you?_ ”

_“It is as the Plan wills.  Stop, my daughter.”_

She saw a flash of silver just beneath the waves as a gigantic school of fish darted away as fast as it could to escape the encroaching cloud of oil.  A giant group of jelly fish, too slow to escape, completely disappeared.  Aquatic birds tried to fly, some with feathers already stained black with thick globs of oil.

With a snarl, she fought against Him.  Everything in her bucked and rebelled, but it was to no avail.  The more she struggled, the heavier the pressure became over her.  He was a warm presence but also as unyielding as the toughest metal in the universe.  His voice was aching and sad, but the repeated commands for her to  _stop_  came with increasing intensity.  An instinctive terror drove her to give up, to submit.  She did so with a furious sob and had to  _watch_  as the humans failed to contain the fire.  An explosion of flames ripped through air and water.

Within seconds, she saw flashes of black begin to appear around her.  The acolytes had come and were slowly descending towards the flames, towards the humans whose lives had just come to an end in the fire.  They silently searched among the wreckage, unseen by anyone but her, their black cloaks blending into the dark plumes of smoke rising from the burning oil.

She couldn’t watch this any longer.  She was drawn to the shore, where the strong tide had carried much of the oil already.  Not only had it carried in oil, but also loads of animals that had been unable to escape.  Dead fish littered the beach by the  _dozens_.  As she picked her way through them, she could see some here still struggling to draw breath, their gills expanding and deflating uselessly under a sheen of oil.  She walked along the beach in a horrified daze.

Humans began to appear in droves.  Some were merely spectators that had come to watch the ongoing struggle.  Most were flocking to the beach to see if they could help in some way.  As the day wore on, more and more came.  Tents were set up by what appeared to be a conservationist group that were already trying to assess damage and lend medical attention to what animals they could save.  Their intentions seemed to be pure, but she was still so angry and raw from feeling so many lives snuffed out all at once.

At one point, a pitiful squawk caught her ear.  It was low and weak, so low that it was almost lost in the crashing waves.  She searched a large cluster of rocks that it seemed to be emanating from.  Wedged between two of the larger boulders was a young pelican.  It fretfully clung to the rock, trying to climb it to escape the rough water that repeatedly bashed against the rocks but was unable to due to the oil already coating it. 

She bounded to the top of the rock and scooped the little one into her arms.  She tucked him against her chest and felt him tremble from both cold and fear.  His feathers were matted black and sticky, and she felt him gasping for air.  Oh great stars.  He was  _choking_ on oil.

He died moments later, and she all but broke his chest trying to revive him without her powers.  He wasn’t the last dying bird she found.  All around her, the humans that had come to help were scrambling to catch any and all distressed, oil-logged animals that they could get their hands on, but she hardly paid them any mind.  What had never stood out to her more clearly than it had in that moment was how despite the fact that death was all around her, there wasn’t a single acolyte in sight.

_Of course not.  They’re not important as those humans, remember?  The planet will absorb their souls and reuse them.  No need to shed tears.  Humans can do whatever the fuck they want and live forever.  We’ll even usher them into the afterlife.  But animals?  No.  No, we won’t._   It was a bitter thought that stoked the cold rage brewing inside of her.  She felt a tentative touch in her mind but reacted so negatively and harshly that it quickly retreated with a sad, apologetic sigh.

Then she climbed over a natural bank of rocks and found herself unexpectedly looking at half a dozen gray-blue figures lying in the sand.  There were already humans trying frantically to help the small pod of dolphins, some pouring water over them while others tried their hardest to collaborate and to get the beached animals back into the polluted water.  They were trying a _nything_.

Blinking hard, she fell to her knees besides the smallest of the dolphins.  It—no,  _she_  was still alive, but just barely.  Each breath was ragged, and her blowhole was covered in muck.  While the frantic humans didn’t notice her, the little dolphin did.  One fearful eye fixed on her as she laid a hand on the smooth, domed head.  She could already feel the bright life force dimming and flickering out.  She closed her eyes and touched the baby’s mind.  Someone, she decided, should know the little one’s story before the end.  The dolphin told her about her life in flashes and feelings. 

_She was the youngest of the pod, the last to be born from the oldest female of the group.  Unlike her rowdy siblings and cousins, she was shy and too afraid to drift very far from her mother’s side.  Oh, but the surface looked so interesting!  Her brothers often raced as fast as they could and would leap right out of the water and perform flips and tumbles.  It filled her with excitement just watching them. She wanted to try that too!  Mother patiently laughed and stated that in time she could.  For now, however, she was too little and needed to focus on growing up strong.  Then she could do as her brothers did; when she was grown, she could do anything._

Death found her kneeling over the dolphin shortly after the baby stopped breathing.  She didn’t acknowledge him, too busy trying to clean the oil from the small corpse.  It didn’t feel like a useless gesture to  _her_.  Only two of the dolphins—one an uncle and the other a cousin of the little one—had survived, but it was not a sure thing.

“Prisma,” Death whispered, using her name for the first time in a very long time as he knelt beside her.

“You’re in the wrong place, brother,” she answered.  Her voice was bitter and sharp, trembling more from the seething fury that had lodged itself in her chest than from the tears trickling down her face.  “There are no humans dying  _here_.”

Death was silent for a moment.  Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him.  “You always assume that I’m coming for a human.”

“I wish you would,” she mumbled in reply.  She wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave her alone so that she could clean the dolphin’s body off in peace.  Instead, she choked on a sob and let the tears flow.  Then she turned and burrowed into his chest.   _I wish you would take them all._


	8. Into the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie delves deeper into the mystery of what the Foot is up to. Meanwhile, there is trouble brewing for Leo and Mikey.

Project Lazarus.  The words came up again and again in the documents.  At first, Donnie didn’t pay them a second thought, deducting from the context of the research notes that it was just one of the many projects that MechCorp Labs had in progress.  Along with Project Lazarus was a long list of projects, each with equally dramatic names no matter what the nature of the study.  So he didn’t feel bad glossing over the seemingly innocuous name at first, not until it showed up in the heavily redacted documents that he’d received from his contact in the CIA.

_There it is again.  And again.  And here._  Donnie went through each of the documents spread out in front of him.  The dates on each of the CIA documents were scattered throughout a span of years, but he couldn’t see the significance of any of them.  What set him on edge was when he realized that the project had started _the day after_ the last battle he and his brothers had had with the Kraang all those years ago—the last time that the portal to Dimension X had been open.  
  
Frowning, Donnie leaned back in his chair and stared at the documents without really focusing on them.   _Why was the government trying to get into Dimension X?  And...are they STILL trying to?_  
  
The thought sent a chill down his spine.  The deeper he dug, the more the pieces were falling into place in this mysterious puzzle.  After the first invasion of the Kraang, the Earth Protection Force had been given the full support by the most powerful governments of the world to take whatever precautionary measures needed to prevent a second invasion.  Wasting no time, the EPF had focused their reinvigorated efforts to protect Earth by gathering as much intelligence on their enemies.  Apparently, the United States military had been up to the same thing, only with much less fanfare--probably so that anything they DID discover could not be seized by the EPF.  
  
Hailed the heroes for successfully holding off the Kraang, it was a logical move to anoint the EPF with more powers, but Donnie still felt an unpleasant kernel of resentment in his heart.  He and his brothers had been the ones that had fought and suffered to defeat the Kraang, and yet they would forever have to hide in the shadows.  Their efforts would never be celebrated or even known by anyone other than the EPF, whom they had formed a tentative truce with out of sheer necessity. __  
  
An old gripe for another time.  Think, Donatello.  What are you missing?  Donnie drained his third mug of coffee, rubbed his weary eyes, and then picked up the document he’d been reading to give it another look.  He couldn’t help but to think that there was some minute detail that he was overlooking.  Maybe one sentence or a keyword.  Or if he was extremely lucky, maybe a _name_ or a location.    
  
“Yo, you still at it, Egghead?”  
  
Donnie glanced up to see Raph leaning against the doorframe. He had a towel draped around his neck, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, indicating that he’d just left from his daily pummel-the-punching-bag session.  Unable to think of a suitable quip to reply with, Donnie instead opted for some venting and honesty.  “It’s going to drive me _crazy_ , Raph.”  
  
Raph smirked and pushed himself off of the door frame to join Donnie at his desk.  A mildly interested furrow creased his brows.  “This looks...fun.   _Real_ fun.”  
  
“Yeah, as fun as deciphering classified information from a few unredacted words in each sentence can be.  It’s the same thing over and over again.  I’m missing something.  I _know_ I am.  There’s no reason that I shouldn’t be able to find a link between the Foot’s thefts and whatever this Project Lazarus is, but I can’t and _ARGG!_ ” Donnie threw his hands in the air in sheer frustration.  Then he jumped when he realized how loud his exclamation had been, eyes nervously darting towards the door Raph had just come through.  
  
“It’s just us.  Splinter’s topside with April for that special training he wanted to do with her.  And Mikey went with Leo to grab the pizzas,” Raph assured him when he saw the momentary distress on his younger brother’s face.  
  
“Whew.  Okay,” Donnie sighed, relieved for only a moment before what Raph said about Splinter and April registered.  “Wait, _what?_  They’re still training when it’s _pouring_ out?”  
  
Raph rolled his eyes.  It was a habit he’d never grown out of in the face of Donnie’s reactions with anything to do with April O’Neil.  “Yes, they are.  Do you really think a little rain is going to stop Master Splinter from training?”  
  
“The amount of rain that we’ve been receiving is in _record numbers!!_  What if she got struck by lightning?  Or worse!  What if she got swept away by the wind?  We’re talking fifteen to twenty miles per hour winds, Raph!”  
  
Raph’s expression was duly unimpressed, and the way he cocked his head at Donnie made him bristle, slightly defensive.  “I mean...it could get _dangerous_.”  
  
“I think the g _reatest Master Ninja in a century_ and our kunoichi can handle a little rain, Donnie,” Raph said in his flattest tone.  Donnie could tell that it was on the tip of his older brother’s tongue to make some other disparaging comment about Donnie’s worrying, but Raph refrained and instead settled on rolling his eyes.  The younger turtle could guess what his brother might have said.  It wasn’t that Donnie would have disagreed with Raph either; April had proven to be more than capable.  With or without her mysterious psychic abilities, she could hold her own in battle as well as the rest of them.  She’d even saved them on more than a few occasions.  
  
 _But I can’t help myself._  Donnie thought with as much wistfulness now as he had when they had been younger.  He had never quite outgrown his crush, not even when April had made it very clear that her heart belonged to another.  It had been a long and painful road to acceptance, but Donnie had made it through appreciating the fact that at least she was in the arms of a good man like Casey Jones.  Donnie didn’t think that he would _ever_ stop loving her.  It was just one of those things.  
  
Raph must have sense something change ever so slightly in Donnie’s mood.  His expression softened, and he shifted the topic back to the present issue.  “Well, beating yourself over the head’s not gonna’ solve anything.  You’ll figure it out, bro.  You always come through.  It’s what you do best.”  
  
His words lifted Donnie’s spirits.  He gave Raph a half-hearted smile, grateful for the support despite Raph’s very vocal misgivings about the whole situation early on.  When they had been younger, he couldn’t understand why his older brother had seemed so against his feelings for April.  As the years went by, he’d come to realize that Raph had just wanted to protect him from getting hurt.  
  
Of the four turtles, no one had felt the loneliness of their existence more than Raph, who’d accepted long before any of them that they would never be accepted by society.  His anger and irritation with just about everything had been his way of protecting himself from the disappointing fact that some things may have been beyond his reach--such as finding someone to share his life with.  Mikey, true to his nature, had been the unpredictable element that had changed everything for Raph.  
  
So Donnie was not surprised in the least when Raph cleared his throat and seriously looked him in the eyes.  “Tell me something.   _Should_ we be worried?  No bullshit, Donnie.  I told Mikey that there was nothing to worry about, and I need to know that I’m not about to be made a liar.”  
  
Donnie felt himself fighting the urge to squirm under the intensity of those green eyes. Mikey’s health and happiness were always Raph’s top priorities.  Clearing his throat, Donnie admitted. “I wish I could say for sure.  What I am trying to figure out is why the Foot is interested in a classified government project.  Get this.  It started the _day after_ we came back from Dimension X.  And I get every indication that it has something to do with the Kraang.”  
  
The frown on Raph’s face deepened considerably.  Donnie swallowed, seeing the flash of emotions that Raph quickly hid behind his usual facade of mild irritation.  When Raph spoke again, his voice was perfectly level, too level.  “Have any of the labs they hit been government-operated?”  
  
“No, but at least one was contracted by the U.S. government for a time.  To research _what_ I don’t know.  But I have my theories,” Donnie said, his eyes automatically falling on the documents he and his brothers had managed to obtain from MechCorp Labs’ servers.  
  
Raph silently perused the documents himself, but Donnie wasn’t sure if the way he was looking them over was him actually reading or if he was just deep in thought.  Interestingly, his older brother immediately honed in on the same thing that had been bothering Donnie. “What is this ‘Project Lazarus’ you have circled and highlighted all over the place?”  
  
“I have no idea,” Donnie answered but then added with more conviction.  “But I think that’s our commonality.  Whatever it is, the Foot are interested in it.  Meaning we are too.  Once Leo and Mikey get back, I want to talk about going to see for ourselves what is so interesting about this project that the Foot have literally been hitting any lab that is connected with this project.”  
  
Raph nodded but continued to look worried, his attention still far away.  Donnie reached out and patted his brother’s arm, feeling the tense muscles under his hand.  “Raph...you said it yourself.  If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.  Either way, we are NOT going to let anyone re-open that portal.  Ever.  Even if we have to…”  
  
He shrugged, the intent clear even if the words were unspoken.  Raph’s green eyes flicked back to meet his own once more.  In a rare moment of vulnerability, Raph elaborated on what was bothering him.  “ _I’m_ not worried.  If those little assholes _do_ try to start something, we’ll squash them and send them packing the way we did before.  Hell, I kind of wish they _would_.”  
  
Whether he realized he was doing it or not, the fingers of Raph’s left hand began to brush the top of the large scar on his side.  But Donnie saw the involuntary motion, and it sent a familiar wave of fury and anguish through him, feelings he’d hoped had long passed.  He supposed that it was similar to his feelings for April.  The memory of those long weeks, when Raph and Mikey had been missing in Dimension X while he and Leo had frantically searched for ways to get back _in_ from their world, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life.  
  
“It’s Mikey that I’m worried about,” Raph confessed and uncrossed his arms, fingers curling and uncurling reflexively.  “He hasn’t been sleeping well ever since this mess has started back up with the Foot.”  
  
Donnie thought back and tried to remember if he had noticed anything off about Mikey.  Well, more off than usual.  Mikey was his own special brand of _off_ , but he liked to think that he knew his weird little brother well enough to know when something was truly wrong.   _Then again, Mikey’s good at throwing people off his scent, isn’t he?_  
  
It was a disquieting thought.  “Is he having nightmares again?”  
  
Raph’s mouth was pressed into a thin, unhappy line.  “Not that he admits it, but I can tell.  He’s not sleeping through the night.  I’ve woken up a couple of times, and he’s been wide awake.  We go out and watch TV sometimes, but I don’t think he ever falls back to sleep.  By the time I’m up again, he’s been up way longer.” __  
  
That did trigger a memory of a few nights ago when Donnie, ever the night owl himself, had wandered from his lab for another cup of coffee.  He’d found Raph snoring away on the couch, a re-run of one of their favorite childhood anime set to a low volume on the television.  Donnie had found Mikey sitting in the kitchen, intently looking at something on the laptop that Donnie had refurbished.  That in itself should have told him that something was wrong, but his tired brain hadn’t thought any more of it when Mikey had flashed him the most cheerful smile and asked him how felt about twice fried chocolate-covered banana-walnut pancakes.  Yes…Mikey was very good at throwing others off of his trail; it hadn’t even occurred to Donnie to wonder why he was up and surfing the internet in the middle of the night while his beloved mate was fast asleep on the couch.  
  
“Well, hopefully we can get some answers tonight and ease his mind a little.  I know it would make all of us feel better once we know what we are dealing with,” Donnie said, and Raph nodded.  The hope of actually _doing_ something instead of sitting around speculating would have to be enough to keep his brother’s worries at bay for now.  
  
Raph went to take a shower, leaving Donnie to puzzle out the documents some more.  After about ten unfruitful minutes, he decided to take a break.   Shifting his attention to something else while they waited for their brothers to come home with dinner couldn’t hurt.  Luckily, there was always plenty to keep him occupied.  
  
He texted Casey to see if his friend was too busy for a Skype session.  With the torrential downpour beating down on the city, the turtles’ friend wasn’t likely to be out in it.  One plus to it raining so heavily was that even the usual scumbags that prowled the streets seemed to hold off their wrong-doings for clearer weather.  So he and Casey could at least interact via webcam to talk about one of their pet projects: upgrading the Shellraiser and Stealth Bike.  
  
“Hey, D,” Casey greeted, flashing a grin as his face came into focus on Donnie’s computer screen.  Even as an adult, the gap in his top set of teeth was prominent, but it didn’t detract from his overall charm or attractiveness.  Donnie suspected that if it weren’t for April, Casey wouldn’t have had any trouble with the girls at all.  
  
If only.  A small part of him wistfully thought.  Donnie ignored it like he always did, and instead returned Casey’s grin.  “Ready to do this?  I was thinking about what you said about the intake and came up with something you might like…”  
  
Time flowed differently when Donnie was focused on something.  It often seemed like one minute he was just starting something and then suddenly it was several hours later.  He wasn’t sure how much time had escaped him before Raph interrupted, bursting into the lab with a brisk gait and deep frown that did nothing to hide his anxiety.  
  
“Donnie, where’s your T-phone?”  
  
Donnie blinked at him.  “Over by the computer.  Why?”  
  
Raph didn’t reply. Instead, he bee-lined right over to the phone and scooped it up.  He took one look at the screen, made an impatient noise, and then practically shoved it into Donnie’s face when he came over to investigate what Raph was up to.  “Unlock it.  I can’t get a hold of Mikey or Leo.  Can you?”  
  
“Wait, wait.  What do you mean you can’t--”  
  
Patience was never one of Raph’s strong suits.  When he was worried about something, it was next to none existent.  “I mean they’re not answering their phones, genius.  Neither of them.  And they’ve been gone for way too long.  No text or nothing.  It’s not like them.”  
  
“Could the rain have fried them?” Casey asked, his voice distant sounding from the speakers of the webcam.  “It’s still coming down like cats and dogs out there.”  
  
Donnie shook his head immediately.  “No.  I waterproofed these, remember?  It’s highly unlikely unless they somehow cracked the case…”   
  
He trailed off, meeting Raph’s worried gaze.  Taking the phone, he was dismayed to see no missed calls or text messages and began dialing.  It rang on both Leo and Mikey’s phones until the voicemail kicked on.  After a few seconds, he tried again.  When the second attempt was unsuccessful, he sank into his seat and began pulling up the program that would be able to track the location of their brothers’ phones.  
  
“Maybe they hid out somewhere until it lightened up?” Casey suggested, but doubt was already creeping into his voice.  Donnie heard him moving around, probably already gathering the things that he would take should he need to set out. 

Raph let out a huff that was more worry than aggravation.  “They went to get pizza, Case.  They should have been back _two hours_ ago.  And whenever they’ve been delayed in the past, they let us know.  Always.  You know this.  Something’s wrong.”  
  
They all followed the same practices.  It just made sense when they had so many enemies still out there.  A simple text or call alleviated a lot of unnecessary panic.  Donnie swallowed and rapidly typed the commands to search for the T-phone signals.  The seconds it took seemed to last forever.  He frowned at the results.  The aforementioned panic was brewing somewhere deep beneath his veneer of calm.  
  
“They’ve split up.  Leo’s moving, but the signal keeps cutting in and out.  Gaaah, this stupid storm must be interfering with the signal,” Donnie refreshed the signal, hoping to get a better connection.  
Raph stared at the screen, snapping.  “Where’s Mikey?”  
  
At the same time, Casey asked.  “Split up?  Why would they split up?”  
  
“They wouldn’t.  Unless something happened,” Raph answered, voice flat and firm.  Donnie could see the hundreds of scenarios flitting through Raph’s head, each more alarming than the last.  It was on the tip of his tongue to say something reassuring, but Raph wasn’t very receptive to blind optimism when it came to things as important as his family’s safety.  When it was anything concerning _Mikey_ , anything less than absolute certainty was out of the question.  
  
Donnie’s concern began to transform into the icy feeling of real fear when he finally managed to pinpoint his youngest brother’s position.  He wasn’t moving.  The orange dot pulsed calmly on the screen, mocking them, sitting at a complete standstill while Leo’s blue dot slowly continued to move away.   _Leo wouldn’t just_ leave _him.  What if he’s...what if...oh please no._  
  
“He could have just dropped his phone.  He’s probably with Leo,” Donnie forced himself to say, swallowing the heavy feeling before it rose and choked him.  He met Raph’s eyes, barely registering when Casey said that he was heading out and that he would meet up with them once Donnie transmitted a location to start looking.  “Raph--”  
  
“We’re leaving.   _Now_ ,” his brother stated, already pivoting.  With no room to argue, Donnie nodded and went to grab his Bo staff.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Black spots were encroaching dangerously from the edges of Leo’s vision, but he staunchly held them off through sheer determination.  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to breathe and to keep moving, to ignore the pain and lightheaded feeling.  His breaths came in sharp, agonizing pants, but he couldn’t afford to slow down to catch his breath.  They were gaining on him.  
  
His hand shook as he clamped down harder on the tattered flesh on his left, applying pressure on the wound just under his armpit to stem the red gushing from it.  Both the affected arm and his hand were slick with his own blood, but the jolt of pain kept him lucid.  He couldn’t give into the fatigue brought on by the blood loss or else he would surely die.  Or worse. __  
  
Mikey.  Leo thought with renewed feelings of anguish and helplessness that nearly brought him to his knees right then and there.  
  
Later, hindsight would insist that there must have been _some_ way that he should have foreseen the attack.  The criticism would extend to their preparedness, on whether or not he and Mikey had made the foolish mistake of _complacency_ simply because they had set out to complete a task as mundane as picking up their dinner.  His guilt would gnaw at him, whispering sinister words that because of his _failure_ , his youngest brother was now in the hands of those _monsters_.  
  
At the moment, however, Leo couldn’t afford to listen to any words of self-doubt.  He staggered through the shadows and stuck close to the wall in order to blend into the darkness as seamlessly as possible.  His feet were light and quick, each step deliberate even as the pain and fatigue threatened to make him collapse at any moment.  Even if he could have broken into a run, he wouldn’t have.  His pursuers were quick, but they could not see in the dark.  The steady rainfall gave him additional cover.  A lifetime spent both living and training in an underground world had made the darkness his ally, and Leo needed every advantage at the moment.  
  
He worked to get his breathing under control.  It sounded harsh and unbelievably loud even to his own ears.  The more blood he lost, the worst it became.  He tried to breathe through his nose, but even _that_ sounded too loud, and he feared that it was drawing the unwanted attention to his location.  The sound of his pounding heart was giving him a headache.  If he could just sit down for a moment and… __  
  
NO, Leonardo.  Keep **moving**.  He shook his head hard once, trying to clear the fog that dulled his senses and made everything seem to move in slow motion around him.  Sucking in a breath, he forced himself to walk.  His eyes darted from side to side, taking in every shadow, every shape that he could make out in the flashes of lightening that provided brief moments of visibility.  
  
The steady roar of rain might have impaired his vision, but he could still _hear_.  He listened for the telltale splashes of footsteps padding through the water.  It alerted him to hide just in the nick of time.  Five foot soldiers came trotting past him, followed moments later by another two going in the opposite direction.  Overhead he saw their dark forms flitting from rooftop to rooftop, searching from high.  It seemed like a strangely determined effort on their part to find him, especially for the Foot Gang in its current state. __  
  
To find me but not to kill me. Leo reminded himself grimly, hand involuntarily tightening around his wound.  Mikey’s screams still rang in his head, and the sight of his little brother convulsing from the shock darts that the Foot had hit him with would be burned into his mind for a very long time.  
  
They hadn’t planned on going to the warehouse district.  Not even close.  The pizzas that they had been on their way to pick up came from a small Italian restaurant that the turtles had fallen in love with.  It was a hole in the wall joint owned by a man they’d saved from a mugging once.  After two tours overseas and surviving the Kraang’s invasion, accepting that mutant ninja turtles existed had not seemed odd to him at all.  In any case, he faithfully kept their existence a secret and offered them free pizzas whenever they wanted it.  The only problem was that his restaurant was way out of the way.  However, it was entirely worth the trip across the city to taste the heavenly pies.  Normally.  
  
On the way there, Leo had been the one to spot the van just seconds before it slid up beside a woman walking down the sidewalk at that odd hour.  He hadn’t even had time to voice his suspicion before the door slid open and the woman was yanked inside, a gloved hand covering her mouth to muffle the scream that had just begun to form.  Without thinking twice, both Leo and Mikey had changed courses to chase after the van as it sped away.    
  
It drove erratically despite the nearly empty streets, taking corners so quickly that the tires squealed and left tread in some places.  It took illogical turns down different alleyways, taking routes more complicated than necessary to get from one main road to another.  At one point, it slid from an alley right into the path of an oncoming truck, nearly colliding with it had the truck not swerved last minute and crashed into some trash cans.  Several cars had to swerve madly to avoid it, but it never slowed down.  
  
“Some get-away driver!  Are they _trying_ to attract the cops??” Mikey had snorted with a shake of his head.  Leo could practically hear him thinking about how dumb criminals could be; it had echoed his own thoughts.  How the words mocked him now.  
  
They’d chased the van’s manic, zigzagging trek all the way into the warehouse district.  There, it slowed and then abruptly turned and disappeared into one of the open garage bays.  Leo and Mikey had hurried towards the building, scuttling from one roof to another.  They had managed to find a way in through a large window that had been carelessly left open (and was probably too high up to bother with closing). __  
  
That should have been our first clue.  What was I thinking?  Stupid.  Complacent.  Leo’s jaw clenched from both pain and self-recrimination as he remembered feeling the first tendrils of suspicion when they saw the van parked quietly in the middle of the abandoned warehouse’s floor.  There were no signs of movement in or around the van.  
  
Eyes narrowing, Leo had motioned for Mikey not to engage yet.  Then they’d crept along the top walkway, trying to circle around in order to get a better look inside of the van.  Was the woman alive?  Had her mysterious abductors killed her in their crazed flight from the scene?  After waiting for several long minutes, Leo accepted that there was only one way to find out.  But before he even took a step, there was a wail from inside the van, followed by sobs and a woman’s plea of, “ _No, please. DON’T._ ”  
  
In retrospect, there hadn’t been any other option but to engage.  Not for them.  Their life’s calling even before they’d truly understood it had been to help those who could not help themselves.  When there was someone that needed help, it was too ingrained in them to do nothing else but _give it_.   This fact, however, was little comfort when the Foot sprang their trap.  
  
Leo managed to avoid the first set of kunai that came hurtling towards him.  They’d hit the metal of the van with three deep _thunks_ as they embedded into the door.  In a flash, he’d had his katanas out, slashing and swinging on instinct as more came whizzing towards him.  He’d frantically backpedaled, vaguely aware of the whispery _swishswishswish_ of Mikey’s nunchucks from behind as his little brother swatted more incoming projectiles from the air.  They’d been quickly surrounded, and the pleas for help had become mocking giggles from inside the van.  
  
“Foot Gang.  Good ol’ fashioned bait and ambush in an old, abandoned warehouse.   _Puh-leeeze._  Pulling out _all_ the bad guy stereotypes, aren’t they?” Mikey had prattled in what could have easily been mistaken for his usual cavalier attitude.  Leo knew better; he’d seen the way his younger brother had been assessing each opponent as more and more Foot soldiers appeared from out of nowhere.  
  
Then familiar voices cut through the rising tension, making both Leo and Mikey glance up.  Mikey let out a soft huff when he saw one figure in particular.  “ _Rahzar_.”  
  
With the one formerly known as Chris Bradford was his usual cohort, Fishface.  But it was the third person with them that had Leo’s nerves pinging in alarm.  He’d _recognized_ him.  Maybe not personally, but Leo was sure he’d seen that same figure somewhere.  Yet, the menacing figure in black was not an enemy he and his brothers had faced before.  
  
He’d looked like a _ninja_ , clad in black from head to toe.  The helmet that covered his head seemed out of place, though.  Coated with some sort of black lacquer, it shone in the dim light, revealing etchings from the top all the way to the bottom of the helmet where it fanned outward.  It was more reminiscent to something a Samurai would wear rather than a ninja, and yet Leo had instinctively known that they were in the presence of one of their own kind.  The only flash of color on the ninja’s black uniform was a single circular pendant bearing a symbol Leo could not make out.  A bright set of green-gold eyes stared out from under the rim of the helmet and sent an instinctive shiver of trepidation through Leo.  
  
“Who--” Mikey began to demand, but then they were being attacked, and there were no more words exchanged.  
  
Leo threw himself to the side just in time to avoid two shurikens that the dark ninja had thrown.  In the same motion, he’d tucked his shoulder into a roll that ended with him springing out and slashing wide with his swords to drop two Foot who’d darted towards him.  Before their bodies had even hit the ground, he was blade to blade with a third soldier.  He’d made quick work of him and then immediately executed a spinning side kick into the chest of another trying to lunge towards him with a dagger.  
  
Using the distraction of the Foot soldier bowling his fellow Foot over, Leo leapt onto a box to gain some ground.  He’d jumped to avoid a sloppy swing, slashing downward to literally disarm the would-be assailant.  The man’s howls had filled the air along with a spray of blood.  
  
Leo had fought on, trying to gain some distance. His instincts screamed at him to duck, and he did so without a second’s thought.  Another shuriken came whizzing over him, but this time, something came with it.  Leo whipped his head around and only had time to suck in a sharp breath as two cold, cat-like eyes bored into his own.  
  
“ ** _Leo!_** ” Mikey’s cry had almost been lost in the sound of wood forcibly exploding into splinters.   Leo’s body was slammed through the boxes like a ragdoll.  The large hand that gripped his head squeezed so hard that he could already feel the pressure against his _skull_.  Leo had gasped, fighting through the pain to counter-attack.  His shell had protected him from the brunt of the attack, but he still had felt the sharp pieces of wood digging and _cutting_ into his skin.  
  
He’d rapidly approximated the distance of the dark ninja’s side and slashed.  The moment he had felt the immediately shift to block his attack, he’d threw his weight to the other side and slammed the bottom of his other sword’s hilt into the dark ninja’s ribs.  His efforts had been rewarded with only a grunt, followed by a blossom of fury in those strange eyes.  The pain reflex loosened the dark ninja’s grip just enough for Leo to continue using the momentum to execute a sweeping heel kick right into the back of his opponent’s head.  
  
It dislodged him from Leo completely.  Leo wasted no time in scrambling away.  More Foot were moving in on his position.  Ignoring the sudden weakness he felt in one of his legs, he threw himself at three advancing enemies, shell first.  Their swords uselessly skittered against the carapace, leaving scratches he could fret over later, but the force of his weight behind the attack threw all three of them off of their feet.  It had bought him a few precious seconds to seek out Mikey.  
  
Across the warehouse, his little brother left a trail of collapsed Foot in his wake in between fighting off both Rahzar and Fishface.  They were relentless, but Mikey was nimble and unpredictable.  He’d long since transformed his nunchucks into the more dangerous kusarigama.  The curved blade had served well to fend off both Rahzar’s razor sharp claws as well as the blade Fishface had produced.  However, it was Mikey’s mastery of using the chain to both attack and disorient that was the beauty of the weapon.  
  
Leo tried to make his way towards his brother, but he had already being blocked by another wave of Foot.  They just didn’t stop coming.  Then the dark ninja was back in the fray, and Leo’s attention was neatly shifted back to his own half of the fight.  This time, however, the dark ninja was not attacking with simple hand-to-hand moves.  
  
 _What in the--_ Leo remembered thinking when he’d _felt_ the air shift around him.  A tingling pricked at his skin, like the first sensation of cold but also like a static charge.  It had surrounded him, the room suddenly seeming darker as the lights above flickered.  While everything grew colder and darker, the dark ninja’s eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural light, shifting the green-gold to an ominous molten gold.  
  
Every nerve in Leo was blaring in alarm, demanding that he get as far away as possible from this threat.  And he had tried to, but there was no room to move, no room to escape a wall of persistent Foot that flanked him on one side while on the other the dark ninja pulled back one arm and then thrust it forward, fingertips pointed straight.  Leo’s mind didn’t immediately register what he saw until he felt a blazing, white-hot pain tear through his left side.  
  
He screamed as he was thrown backwards, his swords tumbling out of his hands.  Distantly, he heard Mikey call his name again, but as Leo’s vision pulsed in alarming shades of black and white, he was in too much agony to do much more than cry out once he hit the wall.  Instinct made him draw his head into his shell just in time to avoid slamming it into the wall as well, but his thoughts were swimming in a sea of agony and panic as he crumpled.  
  
What happened next wasn’t clear.  Leo thought that he may have blacked out for a moment.  The next thing that he’d known was shakily lifting his head from where he’d collapsed, his own blood pooling under him and his left arm not responding to his commands.  The entirety of his left side felt like it was burning.  
  
Leo had hazily tried to seek out the enemy, breathing hard as he attempted to deal with the pain enough to think beyond it.  What he’d found was his brother somehow standing between him and their enemies.  At some point, Mikey had managed to fight his way over to him and was staunchly defending Leo from _all_ of the Foot that remained.  At the forefront was the dark ninja with his glowing golden eyes and an injured, but still standing, Fishface at his side.  Rahzar was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Leo recognized a defeat when he saw it.  He wheezed, gasping for air as he pushed himself up.  Each draw sent a fresh pulse of pain down his side.  He had to get them out of this situation, to at least get Mikey to safety.  “Mikey.”  He coughed, a wet, harsh sound. “Mikey, we have to retreat.   _Run._ ”  
  
Mikey didn’t even look at him.  His attention was intensely focused on the host of enemies in front of them.  But Leo could see the gears working in Mikey’s head.  He tried to implore his little brother again, to save himself while he could.  Maybe--  
  
“Read my mind, bro.  Only one left.  Make it count,” Mikey muttered, reaching around.  Leo caught a flash of white in Mikey’s fingers and realize that he was holding an egg.  
  
“Enough of this.  One will have to do.  Hidan can _chupa me gaita_ if one’s not enough,” Fishface snarled.  He glared at the dark ninja.  “You had to go and almost kill the other one, didn’t you?”  
  
There was no reply.  Then the static-like cold was surrounding Leo again, and the lights flickered ominously.  He’d gasped.  “Mikey--”  
  
“ _Run!_ ” he heard Mikey yell as the egg exploded in a cloud of purple smoke.  
  
Presently, Leo paused to catch his breath.  He leaned heavily against a wall, his eyes squeezed shut.  Mikey hadn’t escaped.  He’d stayed and fought to buy Leo more time to escape, which had ended in the Foot surrounding his little brother and immobilizing him.   _Damnit, Mikey.  Why didn’t you just run when I told you to??_  
  
But he hadn’t.  He’d given Leo a chance to get away, and now they had him.  The Foot had his baby brother.  A wave of light-headedness overcame him, and he began to pitch forward.  The darkness was closing in, accompanied by a thousand angry voices inside of his head telling him that he’d failed.  He’d failed to protect his family, and now _the Foot had Mikey_.  
  
He expected to fall face first into water, and a part of him that wanted to preserve his life made him turn his head in hopes it would help avoid him drowning.  The water and hard ground never came.  Instead, two strong hands caught him by the shoulders, and his head fell against a thickly muscled green shoulder.  
  
“Whoa.  Easy, bro.  We got you.  We got you,” Raphael muttered.  If Leo had had the energy, he would have recoiled in shame.  Raph didn’t _know_.  
  
“Mikey,” he managed to gasp as the world went dark.


	9. Captive Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's troubles are just beginning. What is Project Lazarus??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for all the support. You guys and gals have been really amazing. :)
> 
> Some additional warnings for this chapter: violence and torture

Bradford, Xever, and their grunts returned in fewer numbers and in a much poorer state than when they had left. The turtle was obviously heavy, its body completely slack in its state of unconsciousness.  Hidan observed the group of ‘elite’ Foot soldiers as they struggled to remove the creature from the transport van and then as they stood there in bewilderment.  It was almost comical watching them gasping for air while trying to figure out the best and easiest way they would get it all the way to the holding cell that Hidan had prepared for it.  It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so painfully pathetic to watch.

“I was told that there was a second one,” Hidan stated when Xever came limping past him, holding a bloody towel to what would have been his abdomen.  Hidan took that in along with his the badly mangled left mechanical leg and raised an eyebrow at the idiotic, well, fish face.

The edges of Xever’s comical underbite clenched.  “Be grateful that you have the  _one_.  I have every right to gut him and make soup from his flesh.”

The heated way in which he glared at the bound, still form told Hidan that the creature was responsible for Xever’s current state.  A moment later, when Bradford’s men dragged out the heavily bleeding form of their leader, Hidan felt a mild flutter of respect for the turtle.  Small though it may be compared to the other three, this one obviously had spunk.  No matter.  Hidan only needed one, and this little one would suit his needs perfectly.

“You may do so with whatever remains of it.  Once the project is completed,” Hidan stated, though he had no intention of following through on this promise.  He would have rather let the turtle’s carcass rot than give anything to these barbaric fools.  Then again, he did not think it would be a problem; the turtle’s body was too precious to waste, and Hidan had no intention of doing so at all.

Xever’s eyes snapped from the turtle to glare at him, but Hidan was already moving past him.  His eyes fell briefly on the bulky, shadowy form that paid no mind to the activity around him, instead focusing on cleaning blood from his hands and claws with the typical steadfastness of any feline.  The lingering Foot made room for Hidan when he found his way over to the turtle.

His gaze roved over the magnificent form of the creature, taking in light, freckled green skin, elongated limbs, and a proportionally correct shell.  He knew the origin story of the turtles, of how the seemingly perfect series of disasters had culminated to create the unique mix of turtle and human.  The Kraang’s mutagen prototype might not have been useful when used on humans, but the narrow-sighted Kraang had never appreciated that they had created the perfect transfiguring agent for non-humans.  Hidan did, though.

_It took the U.S. military years to create a working hybrid.  And even he has his drawbacks.  Oh what they would have given to know about mutagen then.  How much time did they waste, I wonder?_   Hidan thought, eyes flickering momentarily back to dark figure.

He gave a tight, contemptuous smile as he knelt.  Reaching out, Hidan ran a hand down the hairless, domed head, feeling the leathery skin that was an interesting mix of human elasticity and turtle robustness.  He could almost feel the mutagen-enriched blood flowing with power and potential just underneath that skin.  “Hello, my Lazarus.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was sulking.  Not  _wasn’t_.  She totally WAS.  Who could blame her, though?  No one, that’s who.  So she was feeling a healthy dose of irritation that her siblings couldn’t seem to understand the concept that sometimes a girl just wanted to be left alone to  _sulk in peac_ e, damnit!

Ignoring yet another message from M or Ness or Athos (or one of her well-meaning but yappy cousins from the Time Corps--or  _Time Lords_  as they fashioned themselves), she tried to focus on adding the last touches to the Terran-inspired marshland habitat.  Though its sudden creation had been bred from necessity, working on it and the two other unrelated habitats had served to cheer her up after the oil spill disaster on Earth.

_They’ll be filled all too soon._   She thought, feeling sad now that the initial rage had had time to burn itself through.  Death had been the one to suggest she take a break from her ‘mystery case’ while he and his acolytes tried to sort through the mess.  For once, she’d followed his advice and retreated to her Sanctuary, the only place in the endless universe that always helped her to find her center.  As if sensing her melancholy thoughts, a scaly head nuzzled itself against her hand, and a thick tail swished back and forth just behind her ankles.

“Awww, you’re so freaking  _cute_.  Thanks, little guy,” she cooed, running her fingers down the ruby-colored, mni dragon’s neck.  His multi-lidded eyes slid shut and he gave a low rumble of approval as she scratched just right under his jaw.  The little whines and purrs he emitted remind her more of a feline than a fire-breathing menace from a volcanic (and sadly decimated after a massive eruption) moon.  When he was appropriately tended to, he padded away, leaving her grinning despite her dark mood.  Not bragging or anything, but her Sanctuary was  _awesome_.  Who could come here in a bad mood and  _not_  leave feeling at least a little lighter in spirit?

It helped.  A little.  She busied herself with touching up some of the other habitats, soaking up the attention of the occupants.  What they said was true; time really did fly when you were having fun. She was actually beginning to enjoy herself and forget her woes when she realized that she was no longer the only Keeper in her Sanctuary.

“You know,” she said conversationally, not even looking up at the ‘bird’ that had perched itself patiently on the nearby chair and was watching her, “even for  _us_  it’s polite to knock before you just come barging in on someone’s private property.”

A second later, a willowy, feathered humanoid was sitting in the bird’s place.  Though he had a large beak that made up the bottom half of his face, she could tell that he was grinning at her by the mirth in his voice.  “Whaaaat?  Since  _when_?  We’re  _family_.  You  _wound_  me, little sister.”

She rolled her eyes, which only goaded him to continue on.  He clutched at his chest dramatically (which was stupid really; an Agnarian’s heart wasn’t anywhere near that area of their anatomy) like humans often did to express shock.  His beady round eyes were positively alight with humor.  When he spoke in that ridiculous Agnarian form, his voice sounded musical, the pitch changing rapidly the way a bird did when it chirped and sang.

“Now is  _that_  any way to treat someone who comes bearing gifts?”

Some of her annoyance ebbed.  Vito and she were alike in a lot of ways.  They’d grown up getting in trouble side-by-side--and if not at the same time than where one erred the other was sure to follow not long after.  If forced to admit such a thing, she would not have considered him her  _favorite_ sibling, but he was high up there on the list.

“It depends on what you brought,” she stated, keeping her poker face until he whipped out two bottles of sweet Saurutian ale. Squealing, she snatched one out of his claw-like hand.  “Okay!  Permission to stay granted.  Gimme!”

“Worldly delights.  Gets the ladies every time,” Vito smugly answered, uncapping his own bottle with a sharp  _pop_.  It fizzed and foamed at the bottle’s rim while the ale itself shimmered in changing shades of blue.  They clanked the necks of their ale together and both took long, deep gulps.

She smacked her lips, enjoying the taste.  Sometimes, she and Vito liked to let themselves get completely immersed in their corporeal forms in order to  _really_  indulge.  She thought about for a moment before deciding against it.  Instead, she raised an eyebrow at her brother.  “So...I’d ask what brings you here but I suspect the answer would be M.”

Vito shrugged but didn’t deny it.  “Meh, I needed a break anyway.  If I have to watch those damn birds in their negotiations any longer, I might scream.  I’m tempted just to tip the scales and let them have at it.  The Plan is the only thing stopping me from going through with it, if I’m honest.  After four centuries of peace, it’s about time to let some of that built up tension out, I’d say.”

His complaining made her smile.  Leave it to Vito to complain about  _peacetime._ The ‘birds in their negotiations’ was the Centennial Summit of the Agnar system.  It was a gigantic system with several inhabited and flourishing moons, each of which were considered independent of each other despite that fact that the tall, bird-like people had all evolved from the same species from the planet of Agnar itself.  Vito had told her that after four successful century-long peace negotiations, lifelong rivalries had begun to chip away at the goodwill and camaraderie between the moonfolk.  Trade talks were breaking down more and more.  Small jurisdiction disputes were increasingly become hostile,  _armed_  altercations.

_I suppose it is inevitable no matter what part of the universe you are in.  So much avoidable death.  I guess it must be some comfort for the mortals to know that they are no more stupid than any other mortal, even one from an entirely different world._   She thought, taking another sip of her ale.  It suddenly felt less sweet on her tongue.

“That sounds far too important for you to  _take a break_  to come drink with your little sister,” she pointed out, accusing.  When he tried to play it off again with some other dismissive excuse about not liking Agnarian food, she glared.  “Oh enough already.  I’m  _fine_.  How many times do I have to tell you all that?  I was just a little upset!  It’s nothing new!  I am ALLOWED to be upset when our charges do something like cause an environmental disaster.  Seriously, you guys are so  _annoying_.”

Vito played it cool as usual, waving his hands.  “Whoa whoa whoa.  I’m not here to annoy.  I’m here to bear gifts and amusing stories while I tactically shirk my duties!  Seriously, Pris.  I cannot watch another ceremonial dance.   _Who does that?_   Who negotiates through  _interpretive dance_?”

To accentuate his point, he imitated said dance, comically raising his arms and flapping them slowly like wings while he stood on one leg and kicked the other back.  The Agnar relied on these elaborate dances to get their points across.  It was an unorthodox practices, but considering their respective society had not experienced a major scale war in four hundred (standard) years, they must have been doing  _something_  right.

She watched her brother do several more dance poses and, unable to help herself, giggled.  “Stop it, you idiot.   _Look at yourself_.”

Vito took in her smile and then lowered his arms, looking satisfied.  “Fine fine.  I only want to share my  _marvelous experience_  with my littlest of sisters, and I get insulted for my troubles.  Such is the great burden of mine.  Such sorrow.”

He made a most (over exaggerated) aggrieved sound and then clapped his hands together.  “Fine then!  Since my work in war and peace is uninteresting, surely yours must be the paragon of excitement.”

She hesitated, eyeing the replica she’d begun to build of the Lair, and then shrugged.  What could she say?  The turtles had inspired her.  If she had her say, it would not be in use any time soon at all.  “I guess you could say that.  I’m working on something on Earth, actually.”

“Is it the wombat?”

“What?  No, not... _what_?”

“Oh good.  I love those little guys.”

She made a face at him, thinking of how they were very like-minded indeed.  “I’m working on turtles.   _Humanoid talking turtles._ ”

Vito looked taken aback.  “Earth  _has_  those?”

“Four of them,” she replied, pleased that she’d managed to surprise him.

“That’s cutting it  _close_.  Good thing you caught it before it got down to one.  Or zero,” Vito laughed.  “Shouldn’t be too difficult, correct?  Turtles lay eggs.  Many of them if I am thinking of the right species.  Give your female one large clutch and with some  _help_  you can repopulate the Earth with lots of cute baby turtles.  It must be longer than I thought since I’ve been to Earth.  I don’t remember there being any talking humanoid turtles the last time I was there.”

She thought about correcting his assumptions but then realized how quickly this would spiral into a long-winded explanation about everything.  She’d already said more than she would have to any other of her siblings.  It didn’t cross her mind to be worried about Vito blabbing her business to the others.  Unlike them, he COULD keep a secret. Besides, his duties kept him nice and busy, far too occupied to worry about things like gossiping and interfering with anyone else’s life.  There wasn’t, sadly, a shortage of war in the universe.

“It’s kind of a long story. Really long.  Uh, anyway. Yeah.  So it IS more interesting than what you’re working on,” she said, adding a cheeky smile for good measure.  Her brother patted her on the head, which felt more reassuring than condescending somehow when it came from him.

“I am infinitely glad to hear that then, baby girl.  You good?” Vito raised an eyebrow, which looked hilarious coming from a six foot  _bird_ , but she still felt warmed by the genuine concern behind his goofy, easy manner.  _Maybe_   _it’s why I like Mikey so much.  Like minds.  Ha!_

“Yeah, I’m good.  Cheers,” she answered just as casually as she raised her ale.  They drained the last of it in one go.  Vito affectionately pecked her on the forehead (no, really.  PECKED) and then, citing that he needed to get back to his ‘Theater of the Dancing Birds,’ vanished in a flurry of feathers...some of which were now scattered  _all over_  the floor of her Sanctuary.

“ _Thanks!_ ” she howled sarcastically, knowing that wherever he was that Vito would be chuckling to himself.  She was smiling, however.  Never (NEVER) repeat it again, but her siblings--her annoying, meddling siblings--were really the  _best_.

A familiar yowl made her turn.  “Juno, you just missed Vito. He…”  

Her smile faded as she took in the restless twitching of his head antennas, of the way he was anxiously,  _reluctantly_ , bounding up to her.  Dread blossomed itself in her chest, heavy like a wet towel that had been draped over her.  She’d left him to watch over Earth and had told him to only disturb her if something truly critical was about to happen.  Something life-ending.

“Juno, what is it?  What’s wrong?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_The worst part was that it hadn’t even been a trap.  The Kraang hadn’t been expecting them, and the turtles had not had been ready to stumble upon the abandoned facility that had housed an untraceable portal from Earth to Dimension X.  But somehow, as their luck would have it, they had.  If the situation had not almost immediately escalated into an all-out battle, Mikey might have found it hilarious that the Kraang had been just as startled as he and his brothers in the initial stare down that had been full of What-The-Fuckery on both sides._

_Then the Kraang opened fire, and the turtles scattered to find cover.  They’d fought back, fighting off dozens of Kraang before a bright pink line seemed to materialize out of thin air, followed by a bright flash.  No sooner had the doorway opened did more Kraang come pouring in, already opening fire before they were even completely through._

_Mikey and fought back-to-back with Donnie, covering the genius while Donnie frantically tried to find a way to close the portal.  Meanwhile, Leo and Raph had mowed down wave after wave of Kraang.  The floor of the old factory became littered with severed metal limbs and crumpled, sparking droid bodies.  Yet, more and more kept marching in from the portal._

_“Come ON, genius!  Today?!” Raph snapped.  Mikey cut down one Kraang and then wound the chain of his kusarigama around the foot of another in the same motion.  He yanked hard, bringing his weight down on the tug so that he could use the disarmed Kraang to knock over two others.  They crashed to the ground in a tangled heap of metal._

_“I don’t know how they’re generating it!” Donnie cried in frustration.  He was examining a device, some sort of panel that logically should have been controlling the portal.  With pink blaster fire whizzing past his arms and over his head, he was barely able to even concentrate on the confusing symbols that made up the panel’s keyboard._

_“D, try under the panel!  The stop sign!!” Mikey called out when he saw Donnie struggling.  His words almost lost in a spinning jump kick that sent another Kraang flying away from them._

_“Stop sign…?” Donnie felt around in a space just under the keyboard.  His fingers must have brushed the edge of the eight-sided button that Mikey knew was there, the one that was built into almost every Kraang console in some way.  And boy did they get clever, but nothing got past the MASTER of hiding things where people wouldn’t look.  With a hiss, the top of the console detached and slid up. More familiar keys appeared on the surface.  “Give me a few more minutes, guys!”_

_Mikey turned his attention back to the battle still raging around them.  He fought off a group that had finally noticed Donnie meddling with their computer.  When he saw them taking aim, Mikey darted forward with a wild cry, twirling his chain.  It forced the Kraang to divert their attention to meet his head-on assault, but by the time they were opening fire, he’d leapt, somersaulting over them.  While mid-air, he wrapped his chain around the droids’ heads, twisting it so that they were lassoed together by their necks._

_Then went down with him as he landed.  Before they could hit the ground, Mikey swept their legs out from under them and then slashed, severing their arms with one pass.  The second slash of his kusarigama blade sent their heads rolling...literally.  The actual Kraang-brains hissed at him and quickly scuttled away on their tentacle legs, fearful of being in the path of the next swipe, but Mikey was already moving to intercept the next attacker._

_Leo’s alarmed voice rose above the chaos.  “HEAVIES!”_

_Mikey’s eyes widened as his eyes registered the larger droids that had appeared from the portal.  Unlike the common droids, these were built to withstand direct attacks and were more than prepared to dish it back.  They towered over a common droid and were not as mobile, but had a ball-and-pivot joint in their waists that allowed them to twist and turn in almost any direction, to shoot around or above them. With their reinforced metallic bodies, Mikey knew that the turtles’ blades had been rendered useless in a head-on attack unless they went for the limbs._

_Raph wasn’t intimidated by the sight of the Heavies. His older brother threw himself at the nearest one with his usual ferocity.  Immediately, he was fired upon, but he dodged and weaved, flipping sideways just in time to avoid a plasma beam that melted the floor where it hit._

_“Eat THIS!” Raph snarled as he slid between the Heavy’s legs and stabbed one sai directly into the back of its knee.  It was enough to imbalance it, but he didn’t have time to dislodge his sai.  The Heavy’s waist swiveled and fired on him with the handcannons.  Raph rolled away and fled.  Boxes and walls were destroyed in his wake as the Heavy followed him with an endless flurry of pink plasma blasts._

_Mikey, seeing his brother under attack, dove in to help distract the Heavies in order for Raph to get to safety.  He threw a handful of shurikens, but they only hit the reinforced armor with sharp_ ting _sounds before ricocheting off in various directions.  Two of the Heavies swiveled to face him, and Mikey narrowly evaded their cannon fire.  He didn’t need to re-engage, instead using his momentum to pull their legs out from under them with his kusarigama.  They began to fall, firing wildly on the way down._

_As the Heavies stumbled, Leo use a fallen group of droids to spring upward and vault onto the top of one fallen Heavy.  Using both swords, he managed to slice through one cannon, then cut half-way into the other.  Just as the other Heavy tried to fire on him, Mikey aimed and threw his kusarigama.  It buried itself in the cannon’s opening, just enough to clog the barrel and cause it to explode in a burst of pink flames.  By then, Leo was already long gone, having leapt and climbed a dangling chain to the safety of the second floor railing._

_“Donnie, COME ON!” Raph howled with a rising note of desperation, but again was interrupted as yet two more Heavies marched through the portal, stepping over their fallen comrades to engage the turtles.  Somehow, Mikey had been forced to fight shell-to-shell with him.  They’d both been reduced to one weapon each but still managed to cover one another._

_“It’s not closing!” Donnie reported, much to their dismay.  Even he had been forced to fight in between trying to manage the console.  “I’m going to have to overload it!”_

_“DO IT!” Leo barely had time to get the words out.  The Heavies had rallied, and suddenly the entire room was alight with flashes of pink and a deafening chorus of_ pingpingping _._

_The wall, now nearly split in two from the assault, began to crumble.  The ceiling wasn’t far behind.  As thick chunks of concrete and shattered glass began to rain down on them, Mikey felt Raph suddenly wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Mikey!”_

_They went down in a heap.  Mikey hit the ground so hard that the air was knocked out of him for a moment.  Raph’s weight was solid against his carapace, pressing him into the hard ground.  He felt Raph grimace as he took the brunt of the collapsing building atop of him._

_“Raph,” Mikey coughed, distressed, and tried to turn them over but his brother was far too strong and heavy for him._

_Amid the collapsing building, something else was happening.  The fighting hadn’t stopped, but now there was a strange, pulsating pink light emanating from the portal.  Mikey frantically squirmed to get out from under Raph and glanced towards the console.  He took in the large, jagged chunk of ceiling that had crashed into it just as Leo’s scream reached him through the deafening sound of the ceiling caving in._

_“Guys, get out of there!  The portal’s unsta--”_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mikey awoke with gasp that quickly became a scream.  The electricity jolted through him in agonizing waves.  His body instinctively seized as the circuit ran its course, jerking violently in the restraints that he wasn’t even aware were holding him upright until the five seconds (or hours??) of white-hot pain ended.  Gasping, he looked from side to side in blind panic, trying to figure out where he was and why he’d been so rudely and  _painfully_ awoken.

His arms were stretched out on both sides of him, just to keep his upper body upright, but his feet still struggled to find purchase beneath him despite being restrained as well. It was no use.  They kept him suspended just high enough that he could hang off the ground by the thick, steel arm braces that encased his arms almost all the way up this shoulders.  His legs, while secured, were not encased but simply held in place at the ankles by more metallic straps.  He was not alone.

Breathing hard, he glared at the shadowy figures leering down at him, trying not to betray the fear that threatened to paralyze him.  He couldn’t see his captors clearly; they were little more than shadows, hidden behind a bright set of lights shining directly into his face to disorient him.  A part of Mikey vaguely wondered if  _every_  villain had these same lights.  Maybe there was an Evil Villains Supply Depot(™) somewhere that sold them.   _Dude, they must making some mad profits!_

_Focus, Mikey!_  Shaking his head to clear his mind, he tried to aim his glare just past the blinding light.  “Hey dudes.  Not cool!  What gives?!”

_Where’s Leo?  Did he get away?_   Mikey wondered, wanting desperately to ask but not ready to show any weakness.  Instead, he looked around.  The memories of the battle came flooding back.  The Foot.  The ambush.  The dark ninja.

“Why did you bring me here if you’re not going to  _talk_?” he demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.  He was in a small, pristinely cleaned room.  The only objects in it was the rack that he was strapped to and a small table with a tray full of instruments that Mikey recognized.  Surgical tools and needles.

His heart began to race, and he had to force himself to keep the rising sensation of panic from bubbling over.   _No, not again.  Not again.  Not again, pl--_

“Are you in any pain?” a voice asked in perfect Japanese.

“What?” Mikey asked, more dumbfounded than anything.

“Do you hurt anywhere?  Are you in any pain?” This time the voice was slower and more deliberate.

Mikey’s bewilderment transformed into irritation.  “Well, of course I’m in pain, dude!  What kind of sicko are you?  You ambush me and my bro, TAZE me, and now you have me tied up!”

He heard a delighted snort.  Then the voice spoke again, this time in English.  “Remarkable.  Intelligent enough to even be bilingual.  Yes, you will do nicely.  I look forward to seeing what secrets you have to hide.”

“Secrets?  What are you talking about?” Mikey asked, something cold lodging itself in his chest at the tone he caught in the soft-spoken voice.  The sicko sounded so  _happy_.

His questions were ignored.  Instead, the owner of the voice seemed to be talking to someone else that was just behind the light.  “I believe we shall get started immediately.  Let’s take a sample for some analysis first, shall we?  I have some theories that I’d like to test before we do any surgery on the subject."

Mikey’s mouth went dry.  His heart was beating overtime in alarm.   _Surgery?_

He jumped when he felt the metal sleeve around his arm suddenly tighten.  He felt a sharp prick and then watched through wide eyes as a clear tube he hadn’t even noticed running from inside the tube and out the end of the sleeve began to turn red with his blood.  It dripped steadily into a set of beakers that were automatically switched out by a mechanical device.

“Hey!  HEY!  Stop that!” Mikey cried, trying in vain to pull his arm away.  He struggled and tugged, but the restraints didn’t even move.  Instead, his efforts caused them to dig further into his wrists.  The sight of this did garner a reaction...but not what he’d had in mind.

“Sedate it.  We can’t have it damaging itself.”

Mikey expected gas for some reason.  He even sucked in a breath in a last-ditch desperate attempt at defiance.  But no smoke or gas came, merely another sharp prick in his other arm.  Within seconds, his vision began to blur.  He fought it even as his limbs grew heavy and despondent.  His head suddenly felt like it weighed a ton.

_What do they want?_ Against his will, Mikey’s eyes closed as his head lolled to the side.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shortly after the creature went completely limp, the Foot scientist known as Hidan carefully scooped up the row of beakers that contained the precious blood samples.  He would need to run tests to see how the Kraang’s mutagen had perfectly bonded turtled and Human DNA.  More importantly, he would use it to study how it stimulated the regenerative effects on the turtles’ cells.  Already, he saw how some of the bruising that the creature had obtained in battle were beginning to heal.   _Remarkable_.

First, he would start with the blood.  Then, he would go in deeper.  If all was successful, he would go down in history as the man who made Project Lazarus a success.  He would be the man who would make the dead come back to life.


End file.
